The Hidden Malfoy
by We-have-problems
Summary: When Harry receives his father's journal from Sirius he never expected this. Harry discovers that he is not a Potter at all, but a Malfoy. Draco is his brother and his parents are Death Eaters. What can Harry do when he fights for the light side, but his family embraces the dark? Harry Potter not a Potter. Alternate Parentage AU
1. Chapter 1: A Father's Journal

**Chapter One: A Father's Journal**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine, not now not ever**

 **Author's Update: Reposted, first chapter now longer...**

* * *

Looking back on this entire situation now, Harry realized this was all Sirius' fault. Granted, it wasn't as though his godfather had _known_ what would happen by sending Harry that box, but still, somebody had to be blamed and Sirius Black was a built in scapegoat. After all, just about everyone else in the wizarding world used him as one. Broke your favorite vase? Sirius Black broke into your house and smashed it. Lost a pet? Sirius Black ate it, because he is a cold-hearted monster.

It all started with a box Sirius sent Harry on a few days after his escape on Buckbeak. There was about a week and a half of school left, and Harry was finally, thankfully, done with exams. All there was to do was wait for results. He had been sitting quietly in the Gryffindor common room, soaking in the warm fire and generally relaxing atmosphere, when Hedwig flew in from who knows where and gave hima medium sized box. Harry trusted Hedwig not to give him something harmful, so he took it up to his room. Once there he opened the note on top, and read it.

 _Dear Prongslet,_

 _I found a place to stay rather quickly, as I'm still the Head of the Black family even though I'm a fugitive...funny that. Anyway, I'm at a family property and I found a few of James' old things here. Most of it is assorted junk, but I thought you would like to see it._

 _Sorry, can't write much, still a bit out of it...but I will write to you over the summer. Hope you are relaxing at the end of exams._

 _Padfoot_

The letter was short, but Harry figured Sirius needed time to recuperate. His godfather also said he would write to him, which was a huge bonus. Harry found himself inexplicably smiling. He opened the box and found a small collection of James' things Sirius had found.

Harry delighted in looking through photos of his father in his Hogwart's years. There were lots of pictures of the 'Marauders'. Harry scowled at the picture of the rat, but he smiled when he saw a younger Professor Lupin, and Sirius. They all looked so carefree. Harry once again wished he could have known them more. Harry kept looking and found an old quidditch poster, and a chaser's uniform. Harry never knew his father was a chaser, sure he knew he played quidditch, but not as a chaser. The idea made Harry feel like he knew his father even more.

Then Harry found a journal from his dad's Auror years. Apparently his dad had been an auror for about a year before him and his mum went into hiding. Harry had already considered becoming an auror, so this only strengthened his resolve. Even though it was getting late at night, Harry settled in to read the journal.

…

 _September 1st, 1978_

 _Lily said I've been too stressed lately, she just about threw this book at my head, and told me to write in it. Well, she told me this about a week ago...I guess I'm starting this today for nostalgia purposes. Hogwarts and all that. I've only been out a school a couple years, but it already feels like a lifetime._

 _Today me and Sirius were advanced to Auror status instead of Auror trainee. Normally we would have to wait several years, but with Voldemort running amuck the Ministry needs as many Aurors in the field as possible. Of course, Sirius and I are partners...what other situation could there be?_

 _Our first case should start tomorrow, or more likely it will be a raid. When I heard about aurors in Hogwarts, I imagined them more like muggle detectives, but I have found out that with the war, we are being treated as a military unit. At least we have our families to go home to._

 _Lily is training to be healer, and although she is worried about the war, she wants to focus on her studies and become a mediwitch as soon as possible. She wants to be able to help in battle with the Order, and heal people during the fights, so there are less casualties later._

 _I'm actually quite worried about the Order. Now that I am an official Ministry worker, is it right for me to be in the Order? What am I saying? I sound like Moony! This war is taking a toll on all of us...sometimes I wish I could relive Hogwarts, it all seemed so carefree then._

 _I wish I could talk to Severus, maybe apologize, but I heard he joined the death eaters. I should have expected this. I don't have the heart to tell Lily, I just know she would blame herself. I blame myself. Sometimes I think it was the Marauders that pushed him so far into the dark, if only…_

 _No matter, I really need to cheer up, no one likes a downer, and Sirius and I planned to prank Wormtail, that always lifts our spirits. This is Prongs, over and out._

…

The entry for that day ended there, and Harry found himself smiling for the sheer reason of having something so concrete of his dad there with him. The entry itself sounded like it had been rushed, maybe his father thought he had been writing to himself. It certainly seemed like it , because there weren't many explanations of what was going on. There were quite a few things he didn't understand. What was the 'Order', and why would his dad want to apologize to Professor Snape, who was apparently a 'death eater'. He loved the mention of his mum. He never knew she wanted to be a healer. Although the entry was short, it contained so much for Harry. He felt as though his dad could be reading the words aloud to him. He continued reading.

Most of the entries were about cases that Sirius and him solved together. James once commented he felt like Watson, a detective in a muggle novel, documenting the cases he solved. He read through these, and it seemed like his dad had been some sort of amazing crimefighter. Those weren't the best entries though. The ones Harry loved were the ones about his mother. His favorite was the entry about Valentine's Day.

…

 _February 14, 1979_

 _This will be Lily and me's first married Valentine's day. I want everything to be perfect. I have the day off from work and I have planned everything out. First I will wake her up with a special Valentine's day breakfast, cooked by Moony of course. Then I will take her to muggle London, to get away from the wizarding world. I will take her to lunch, then ice skating. And Sirius recommended this new movie, called Agatha I should take Lily to see. Sirius knows his muggle movies, so I trust him. While I do all of this, the Marauders will be setting up a beautiful candlelit dinner for the two of us and maybe later-_

…

Harry stopped reading here, not wanting or needing to know the details. He skipped ahead until he found the last few paragraphs of the entry.

…

 _The day did not start out well. Remus burned the toast, so I took Lily out to breakfast, and when we ordered our food took forever to come out, and it was overcooked. I tried to salvage this by taking her to a showing of Agatha, but for some reason there we walked into a movie about gangs. There was blood, gore, and it reminded Lily of...everything. We had gone into the wrong theater and started watching some movie called Warriors._

 _I had hoped the lunch and ice skating would help cheer things up. Lunch was fine, but I was a complete klutz with the ice skating. I almost broke my ankle at least four times, I counted four I tell you, and Lily lost her gloves. We started home cold and ready to sleep…_

 _Then we arrived at the house. It had been decked out in pink everything. Hearts, ribbons, and lights surrounded us. Lily smiled at me, and I felt like I was going to explode. I opened the door, and found a sign pointing to the backyard. Out on the back grass was a picnic blanket with a steak dinner. Warming charms had been set up around the blanket, so we weren't cold. As we went to sit down I saw Sirius, Remus, and Peter standing at the back gate. They smiled at me before sneaking out, and all I could think was how lucky I am to have friends like this._

 _We spent the night eating a delicious dinner and stargazing, and let me say, that will be one of my best memories-_

…

Harry stopped reading. He couldn't believe how close the four had been. He wondered where it all went wrong. And reading this, Harry wished he could see Remus and Sirius like that, full of life. They seemed so careworn, so tired. He guessed that's what grief and Azkaban did to you. He kept reading the journal. Harry read how James began growing apart from Remus, as he began spying for the werewolf clans, and how the war grew ever tenser. Lily stopped studying to become a mediwitch, it was too dangerous as a muggleborn. She helped plan defenses against the dark lord instead.

Harry read more and more. A few sections stood out to him, and he read them with extra attention. He never knew the first war was so terrible.

…

 _June 21st, 1979_

 _Remus, he's spying for the werewolves now. He is working with the packs to see how much they support Voldemort. He tells us he has all kinds of dark creatures working for him. I'm worried. The dark promises rights for creatures, something we should have done long ago, and I'm afraid Remus wants a better life. He might think the dark could give it to him. Can I trust Remus? I'll be more careful-_

…

 _October 5th, 1979_

 _He, he tried to recruit me. I can't say his name. He put a taboo on it. Now if anyone says his name he will find them. He will find them and kill them. I'm not taking my chances by putting his name in writing._

 _It was a battle, he found me, and he looked at me. Those eyes. Red, bloody, dark eyes. He said Lily and I would make great additions to his army. We spat in his face. We barely escaped. Barely. We are thinking about going into hiding, this is the second time we've escaped him. We need-_

…

 _December 23rd, 1979_

 _Christmas will be here. Nobody is celebrating. The Prewett twins were found dead. Molly is in tears. Her brother. My parents, Lily's. Everyone has casualties. This season is about remembering. Lily wants a child-_

…

Harry wondered why there wasn't mention of a pregnancy yet. Surely there would be notice by now...right? Everything seemed terrible. The entries were getting shorter and more depressing. Harry noticed sentences that stood out, that told him how terrible everything was getting.

…

 _Sirius' brother was found dead. Thought he was a death eater...now we aren't so sure. He was killed with the dark mark above him-_

…

 _Petunia won't talk to Lily, hasn't said a word since our wedding where she told Lily she was making a mistake. She cries at night-_

 _..._

 _I don't know who to trust. Remus is leaving at odd hours, and there's a traitor in the order._

…

 _Today he killed an entire small muggle town. It was a massacre. Bodies everywhere, so much blood._

…

 _I saw him again. I was captured, and he came to my cell directly, told me people who stood up to him shouldn't get to live. Ordered death eaters to kill me. I escaped by stealing one of thier own wands when he left._

…

Then Harry found the entries which changed everything.

…

 _June 10th, 1980_

 _I can't have children._

…

Harry stopped reading. That wasn't possible. He was their son...there wasn't. He couldn't. Harry kept reading, needing to understand.

…

 _The healer told me it might, might be possible, but it wasn't likely. I had probably been hit with a shoddy infertility curse._

 _How can I tell Lily? She wanted a child so badly-_

…

Harry sighed, but wait. It was only a month before he was born. Why wasn't Lily pregnant? He flipped ahead to a journal dated on his birthdate.

…

 _July 31st, 1980_

 _Today is my final day as an auror. Lily wants to start a family, and I need to be there for that. We have enough money to last us a good few years, and it is not as though we will be using much. I will write more when the day is through._

 _ **I'm in over my head. I can't believe I did this. But it was the right thing to do...right? I needed to, to protect. I couldn't do anything else. Anything else. Breathe. Calm down.**_

 _For this last day there was a raid on Lestrange manor. We thought it would be Voldemort' headquarters. We were correct. Death eaters were everywhere. I need to breathe. Whoever reads this, just know I needed to. I couldn't leave the child there._

 _I had split off from the rest of the group, to search for prisoners, when I heard a baby wailing. I check the rooms, and found a child no more than a month old in the center of a ritual circle. I grew worried. I knew how the ministry was. They would kill the child for being exposed to dark magic. I couldn't let that happen. He was innocent. I always wanted a son…and I couldn't, but now._

 _I quickly took the child and apparated home. I explained everything to Lily, and she told me we could adopt him. At first I wondered how we could explain away the presence of a new child in our family, but Lily mentioned how the only person who had seen her recently was Sirius and he could be trusted. We could pass the child off as our own. The only problem was he looked nothing like us. So we blood adopted him. The potion would last for fifteen years, then a second dose would be administered, and it would be permanent. He would be old enough then to decide what he wanted._

 _I invited Sirius over, but I panicked. I obliviated him, and made him believe the child really was our. I so sorry Sirius, forgive me Sirius. I need to protect him. I need to protect my son Harry James Potter._

…

Harry sat still on the bed, in complete shock. This couldn't be true. People would have known, but the war was a hectic time. Any child would be celebrated, and with two brilliant parents to hide his real identity...this was possible. There was no way this journal was forged. And it had been at the bottom of the box. Harry couldn't breathe.

He wasn't a Potter. He wasn't James' son. No, he was, maybe not biologically, but James had adopted him. James and Lily both had given their lives for a son they knew wasn't theirs. They were his parents when it counted.

Who were his parents? They were either dead at the hands of a death eater, or a death eater themselves. Maybe one of his biological parents was still alive, maybe...No. He couldn't go down that path. If his parents were death eaters, then they were beyond redemption. But he only had so much time. A second dose of the potion couldn't be administered.

On a early June night, a third year Gryffindor sat on a windowsill trying to define his entire identity. He didn't know who his birth parents were, but he knew he would find out when he turned fifteen. He just had to prepare until then.

* * *

 **Author's Note: This is a new story for me, and I would love if I could get some feedback on this idea...I know where I am going with this, and I hope everyone enjoys this. I added in a small headcanon about the Marauders, but whatever... next chapter will be a bridge in between finding out who his real parent are…**

 **Bonus points for anyone who guesses right! Hint: They are well-known characters, so no Ocs or anything...**


	2. Chapter 2: The Golden Trio

**Chapter Two: The Golden Trio**

 **Disclaimer: Not mine in any shape or form**

 **Author's Note: While this is an alternate parentage story, I don't want Harry to immediately give up all morals and turn evil. I might give him dark magic, but I will try to keep him mostly in character. So Dumbledore won't become this evil megalomaniac (although he will stay a manipulative bastard…)**

* * *

Harry fell asleep sometime around four in the morning, and woke up to the sound of screams. He bolted up, frantically searching for his glasses. He threw on his clothes and bolted to the common room, the source of the scream. What he found was surprising to say the least.

Fred and George had most likely been testing out new products, and as a result a large number of students were now sporting animal ears and tails. The scream had come from Lavender, who was pulling at her mouse ears and tail in dismay. There were about twenty students affected, and Harry wondered how Fred and George could have gotten them to all eat something, after all, Lavender would never try a prank on purpose.

The answer was revealed soon enough as Fred and George came up behind him, and Fred, or who Harry thought was Fred, said, "Why, hello there our-"

"Mini Marauder friend," George? finished.

"What happened here?" Harry asked, a bit too surprised to say anything else.

"Now that-" a twin said

"Is easily answered," finished the other.

Their twin-speak was quite dizzying, but they continued talking in the same manner.

"We invented a potion that works-"

"Like a muggle smoke bomb-"

"You throw it on the the ground and-"

"Kabaam! A room full of animal ears and tails."

Harry laughed, "That is rather funny, glad it didn't happen to me-"

Suddenly a puff of smoke was in Harry's ace, and he felt a tingling sensation on his lower back and head. He felt the top of his head to find a pair of deer ears and antlers, and he could feel his newfound deer tail twitching behind him. He was reminded of what Sirius had said his dad's animagus form was, he was still quite annoyed.

Harry scowled, "Really? Really guys? Whatever, have you guys seen Ron or Hermione?"

The twins pointed to a corner where Hermione sat with a book...and cat ears and a tail. Harry sighed and walked over to her, sitting down beside her, "Hey 'mione," he said.

She looked up, a bit surprised. She had been so engulfed in her book Harry wondered if she noticed the antlers and tail. "Oh, Hullo Harry," she said, returning to her book.

Harry sighed, he had decided last night that it would be best to tell Ron and Hermione about the journal, after all they were his two best friends, and he trusted them with his life. He had, on multiple occasions. Then he saw Ron across the common room, without animal characteristics, and motioned him over.

"Umm," Harry started, "Well, see I found something out yesterday, and I want you guys to…" Harry trailed off. he didn't know what he wanted Ron and Hermione to do exactly.

"Can we go the astronomy tower?" he asked, "I'd like a place more private."

They both nodded, and the three of them headed towards the tower. On their way there they passed a number of students, also out on a Saturday enjoying the last week of school. Of course, none of the other students had cat ears or antlers, but it was the principle of the thing.

On their way to the tower Ron motioned towards Harry and Hermione and said, "So what's with the new look? I'm guessing a prank."

Hermione gave Ron an exasperated look, "Yes Ron, as a matter of fact it was your brothers that did this, I assume it will go away soon, hopefully."

Just as she finished speaking the animal ears and tails disappeared from both Harry and Hermione. They both sighed in relief

The rest of the walk was quiet, and too soon, for Harry at least, they reached the tower. They sat down in the empty room and, after Hermione put up an anti-eavesdropping spell, waited for him to start talking.

"Well, see, umm…" Harry was having trouble knowing where to start with everything. He took a moment to take a deep breath before continuing. "Yesterday, a bit late, Sirius sent me a box of my Dad's old stuff, see, and I started looking through it…"

"I found his journal."

Ron and Hermione both looked excited, but then Hermione noticed the lack of excitement in his posture and words. She said, "What was in the journal?"

Harry sighed again, "Don't be mad at me, please, I couldn't handle it if you were angry at me, or we stopped talking…"

It was Ron who spoke next," Mate, whatever it is, we'll stand by you. I mean, your trusting us with whatever this is, so do you really think we would abandon you?"

Harry smiled, no matter what happened, at least he had friends like this. He told them about what he had found in the journal. He told them how he didn't quite believe it, but what if it was true. Harry even showed the two of them the journal, which he had brought with him.

During his retelling Ron and Hermione had looked both shocked and confused. At the end of it all Ron spoke up.

"So basically what you're saying here is that your parents adopted you, and you may or may not be the son of deatheaters."

Harry nodded, and then Hermione said, "Harry, this would never jeopardize our friendship. It doesn't matter who your parents are, you are more than that. If your birth parents really are...death eaters, then it won't change the way I see you. After all, you've already fought Voldemort twice, I highly don't you're going to join him. "

Ron nodded in agreement, and Harry felt overjoyed. He had been terrified they would reject him, but the had stayed by him.

"Thanks guys," Harry said, "you have no idea how much this means to me."

They both nodded and Ron said, "There is one problem, from what you said, your gonna turn into somebody else on your fifteenth, and you have no idea who your birth parents are."

Harry ran his hands through his hair, "I know, but I have no idea how to figure out who they are…"

Then Hermione said, "Well, your parents were most likely wizards, and they were either captured by Voldemort, or one of his servants. That means the daily prophet might have said something about a dead child, or a mass family murder. There is even a possibility you had been stolen at birth, and taken to Voldemort's lair."

Ron looked contemplative, "Well, the ministry had this big book of every magical person born in Britain, it's in the department of records."

Hermione brightened, "All we would need to do is look at children born a few months before July 31st."

"But guys," Harry said, "How are we supposed to get into the ministry?"

They paused, then Ron said, "My dad works there, maybe over the summer we could have him take us with him to work, and we could sneak away. I know parents sometimes bring their kids to work."

Harry and Hermione both agreed it was a good idea, then they started trying to plan when they could meet over the summer. Ron told them that apparently there was going to be the quidditch world cup this year, and that since neither Harry or Hermione could watch it in the muggle world maybe they could come to the Burrow.

This seemed like a great idea, until everyone hit a roadblock. The Dursleys. They would never, under any circumstances let Harry go anywhere he might enjoy himself. Just by telling them it would be a quidditch world cup, not that they knew what that meant, the Dursleys would forbid him. Mainly because although they didn't know what quidditch was, they knew it would probably be another freaky thing he did.

Harry decided they would have to trick the Dursleys into letting him go. At the very least, Harry would have to straight out lie. He thought about possible ways to go about this.

After asking the other two Hermione came up with a brilliant plan, "If you tell them you are going to my house, and that you won't be back for the rest of the summer, I think they might let you go."

"Why?" asked Ron.

"Well see," Hermione said, "my parents are dentists and if the Dursleys are as mundane as you say then they shouldn't have a problem with you spending the summer with a bunch of dentists. We just won't mention that we are going to Ron's."

Harry smiled at Hermione, "That's bloody brilliant," he said, "I think they'll fall for it too. Especially with the whole not seeing me again part."

Then Ron said, "So the quidditch world cup is on August 22nd, so you think we should get together on August 15th, so we have time to go into the ministry."

Hermione nodded, "That should work,' was all she said. With that, the matter seemed resolved, at least for the moment. Harry was amazed at how quickly they accepted the situation and promised to stand by him. It was why they were his best friends.

The three left the astronomy tower and went to the great hall, because it now seemed to be about lunch time. After eating, the hung around outside for a bit, and joked around. Generally they seemed to be getting into the pattern of things.

The three settled back into a routine of Hermione worrying, Ron and Harry lazing, and other normal stuff. Soon exams came out, Hermione had great scores, and the end feast arrived. Hermione announced she was giving up muggle studies, and although the loss of the time turner was sad, they didn't need it. All too quickly the were on the train to king's cross.

In the middle of the train ride Harry received another a letter from his godfather. he opened it and read it with delight.

…

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I don't know whether they're used to owl post._

 _I forgot to mention in my last letter that Buckbeak is safe and sound with me. I won't include any more information about where I am in case this letter falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubts about his reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job._

 _I believe the demonter are still searching for me, but they haven't a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Hogwarts, so that the security on the castle will be lifted._

 _There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. It was I who sent you the Firebolt-_

…

"Ha!" said Hermione triumphantly. "See! I _told_ you it was from him!"

"Yes, but he hadn't jinxed it, had he?" said Ron. "Ouch!" The tiny owl, now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way.

…

 _Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from my own Gringotts vault. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays' worth of presents from your godfather._

 _I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncle's house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you._

 _I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable._

 _If you ever need me, send word. Your owl will find me._

 _I'll write again soon._

 _Sirius_

…

Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly and felt suddenly as warm and contented as though he'd swallowed a bottle of hot butterbeer in one gulp.

...

 _I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends._

…

"That'll be good enough for Dumbledore!" said Harry happily. He looked back at Sirius's letter. How would Sirius feel if he knew Harry wasn't James' son. Would he still want to protect him? James had said he was going to tell Sirius, but panicked. Did that mean he didn't trust Sirius? His godfather was always talking about how much he looked like James, but apparently this wasn't his true appearance.

Granted, Harry's patronus was a stag, so Harry obviously saw James as a protector and father, but he wasn't born to Lily and James Potter. Harry hoped that when he told Sirius, which he would, that Sirius would still accept him, like Ron and Hermione did. He shook his thoughts away from that and saw something else on the letter.

"Hang on, there's a PS..." he said.

...

 _I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as it's my fault he no longer has a rat._

 _..._

Ron's eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly.

"Keep him?" he said uncertainly. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to Harry's and Hermione's great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff.

"What do you reckon?" Ron asked the cat. "Definitely an owl?"Crookshanks purred.

"That's good enough for me," said Ron happily. "He's mine."

The rest of the train ride was uneventful, mostly games of exploding snap, and once the train reached London The three split up to head towards their respective families.

Harry bid Ron and Hermione good-bye, then wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Hedwig's cage toward Uncle Vernon, who greeted him in his usual fashion, meaning to say he grunted in disdain.

"What's that?" he snarled, staring at the envelope Harry was still clutching in his hand. "If it's another form for me to sign, you've got another -"

"It's not," said Harry cheerfully. "It's a letter from my godfather."

"Godfather?" sputtered Uncle Vernon. "You haven't got a godfather!"

"Yes, I have," said Harry brightly. "He was my mum and dad's best friend. He's a convicted murderer, but he's broken out of wizard prison and he's on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though ... keep up with my news ... check if I'm happy ..."

And, grinning broadly at the look of horror on Uncle Vernon's face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I love the reactions I'm getting from this story, and don't be afraid to review. If you don't like something I want to know why! I love reviews, from a simple spell check to an angry rant about why you hate this story I love them all. And yes, I made Ron and Hermione stay Harry's best friends. Next chapter will have ministry trip and maybe a parent reveal.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Ministry

**Chapter 3: The Ministry**

 **Author's Note: Yah, here it is enjoy**

* * *

Harry lay flat on his back, breathing hard as though he had been running. He had awoken from a vivid dream with his hands pressed over his face. His scar was burning beneath his fingers as though someone had just pressed a white-hot wire to his skin. He sat up, one hand still on his scar, the other reaching out in the darkness for his glasses, which were on the bedside table.

He put them on and his bedroom came into clearer focus, lit by a faint, misty orange light that was filtering through the curtains from the street lamp outside the window. Harry ran his fingers over the scar again. It was still painful. He turned on the lamp beside him, scrambled out of bed, crossed the room, opened his wardrobe, and peered into the mirror on the inside of the door. A skinny boy of fourteen looked back at him, his bright green eyes puzzled under his untidy black hair.

It was interesting, now that Harry knew this wasn't his true reflection he found himself looking in the mirror much more often. He tried to imagine himself with different facial features. A longer nose, straight hair, or even different colored eyes, but it was always difficult. After all, he couldn't imagine himself with any other face than the one he had now. Still, even two months later, Harry was still in a slight state of shock over the revelation that he was adopted.

Harry continued looking at his reflection and examined the lightning-bolt scar of his reflection more closely. It looked normal, but it was still stinging. Harry tried to recall what he had been dreaming about before he had awoken.

It had seemed so real. . . . There had been two people he knew and one he didn't. . . . He concentrated hard, frowning, trying to remember. . . . The dim picture of a darkened room came to him. . . . There had been a snake on a hearth rug . . . a small man called Peter, nicknamed Wormtail . . . and a cold, high voice . . . the voice of Lord Voldemort. Harry felt as though an ice cube had slipped down into his stomach at the very thought. . . . He closed his eyes tightly and tried to remember what Voldemort had looked like, but it was impossible. . . .

All Harry knew was that at the moment when Voldemort's chair had swung around, and he, Harry, had seen what was sitting in it, he had felt a spasm of horror, which had awoken him . . . or had that been the pain in his scar? And who had the old man been? For there had definitely been an old man; Harry had watched him fall to the ground. It was all becoming confused.

Harry put his face into his hands, blocking out his bedroom, trying to hold on to the picture of that dimly lit room, but it was like trying to keep water in his cupped hands; the details were now trickling away as fast as he tried to hold on to them. . . . Voldemort and Wormtail had been talking about someone they had killed, though Harry could not remember the name . . . and they had been plotting to kill someone else . . . him!

Harry took his face out of his hands, opened his eyes, and stared around his bedroom as though expecting to see something unusual there. As it happened, there were an extraordinary number of unusual things in this room. A large wooden trunk stood open at the foot of his bed, revealing a cauldron, broomstick, black robes, and assorted spellbooks. Rolls of parchment littered that part of his desk that was not taken up by the large, empty cage in which his snowy owl, Hedwig, usually perched. On the floor beside his bed a book lay open; Harry had been reading it before he fell asleep last night. The pictures in this book were all moving.

Men in bright orange robes were zooming in and out of sight on broomsticks, throwing a red ball to one another. Harry walked over to the book, picked it up, and watched one of the wizards score a spectacular goal by putting the ball through a fifty-foot-high hoop. Then he snapped the book shut.

Even Quidditch — in Harry's opinion, the best sport in the world — couldn't distract him at the moment. He placed Flying with the Cannons on his bedside table, crossed to the window, and drew back the curtains to survey the street below.

Privet Drive looked exactly as a respectable suburban street would be expected to look in the early hours of Saturday morning. All the curtains were closed. As far as Harry could see through the darkness, there wasn't a living creature in sight, not even a cat.

And yet . . . and yet . . . Harry went restlessly back to the bed and sat down on it, running a finger over his scar again. It wasn't the pain that bothered him; Harry was no stranger to pain and injury. He was used to bizarre accidents and injuries; they were unavoidable if you attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and had a knack for attracting a lot of trouble.

No, the thing that was bothering Harry was that the last time his scar had hurt him, it had been because Voldemort had been close by. . . . But Voldemort couldn't be here, now. . . . The idea of Voldemort lurking in Privet Drive was absurd, impossible. . . . Harry listened closely to the silence around him. Was he half expecting to hear the creak of a stair or the swish of a cloak? And then he jumped slightly as he heard Dudley give a tremendous grunting snore from the next room.

Harry shook himself mentally; he was being stupid. There was no one in the house with him except Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley, and they were plainly still asleep, their dreams untroubled and painless.

Asleep was the way Harry liked the Dursleys best; it wasn't as though they were ever any help to him awake. They were Muggles who hated and despised magic in any form, which meant that Harry was about as welcome in their house as dry rot.

For most of his life, Harry had thought the Dursleys were his only living relatives, despicable as they might be, but he had recently discovered this wasn't true. He had parents who were, most likely, alive, and if they weren't, he would probably have other relatives. Even with the possibility of Harry's biological parents being death eaters, they were probably still better than the Dursleys, who Harry wasn't even related to. The Dursleys hated him, because he was an abnormality in their normal lives, one that they couldn't do anything about.

In order to explain away how Harry was away for most of the year to the neighbors the Dursleys told everyone that he went to St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. They knew perfectly well that, as an underage wizard, Harry wasn't allowed to use magic outside Hogwarts, but they were still apt to blame him for anything that went wrong about the house.

Harry had never been able to confide in them or tell them anything about his life in the Wizarding world. The very idea of going to them when they awoke, and telling them about his scar hurting him, and about his worries about Voldemort, his parents, was laughable. TThe only they may do is rejoice because the freak was no longer related to them.

And yet it was because of Voldemort that Harry had come to live with the Dursleys in the first place. If it hadn't been for Voldemort, Harry would not have had the lightning scar on his forehead. Harry wondered if that fateful night would had gone differently if Voldemort had known Harry might be the son of his followers. . . .would James and Lily be alive?

If they had lived, would they have told Harry about his adoption, or would they have kept it a secret? Harry liked to imagine that they would have told him eventually, when he was old enough to understand, but there was no use fantasizing about what life might have been like. His second parents were dead, and the first unknown.

Well, at least this summer had been better than the others. Sirius had been of some help to Harry, even if he couldn't be with him. It was due to Sirius that Harry now had all his school things in his bedroom with him. The Dursleys had never allowed this before; their general wish of keeping Harry as miserable as possible, coupled with their fear of his powers, had led them to lock his school trunk in the cupboard under the stairs every two summer prior to this. But their attitude had changed since they had found out that Harry had a dangerous murderer for a godfather — for Harry had conveniently forgotten to tell them that Sirius was innocent.

Harry had received two letters from Sirius since he had been back at Privet Drive. Both had been delivered, not by owls (as was usual with wizards), but by large, brightly colored tropical birds. Hedwig had not approved of these flashy intruders; she had been most reluctant to allow them to drink from her water tray before flying off again.

Harry, on the other hand, had liked them; they put him in mind of palm trees and white sand, and he hoped that, wherever Sirius was (Sirius never said, in case the letters were intercepted), he was enjoying himself.

Somehow, Harry found it hard to imagine dementors surviving for long in bright sunlight; perhaps that was why Sirius had gone south, after stopping at his old house. Sirius's letters, which were now hidden beneath the highly useful loose floorboard under Harry's bed, sounded cheerful, and in both of them he had reminded Harry to call on him if ever Harry needed to.

Harry quickly wrote a letter to Sirius telling him about the basics of his summer, but leaving leaving out his strange dream. There was no point putting it in; he didn't want it to look as though he was too worried. He folded up the parchment and laid it aside on his desk, ready for when Hedwig returned. Then he got to his feet, stretched, and opened his wardrobe once more. Without glancing at his reflection, he started to get dressed before going down to breakfast.

Today was the day he would get picked up by the Grangers, and driven to London to meet the Weasleys. He would get to go to the ministry, and possibly discover who his birth parents were. He was filled with excitement, and with the worry of the strange dream gone, he could barely hold in his joy.

Not even the Dursleys could ruin today. His trunk was packed, and he had put on his best clothes for the occasion. Granted, his best clothes were only slightly too big, mainly because they were supposed to be Dudley's, but they shrunk in the wash and the shop wouldn't take them back.

He took his trunk downstairs, and looked at the clock, 10:30 A.M. Perfect. the Grangers should be here any minute. Unfortunately he was met with the disgruntled face of Vernon, who was looking at him with a glare Snape would be proud of.

"Now listen here boy," he said, "I do not want to see you back here for another year. If by some terrible misfortune you end up back, I will be extremely displeased."

He looked at Harry again, trying to be sure his point was made, before waddling off down the hallway. A few moments later he saw a sedan pull up outside of number four Privet Drive, and he raced out there, with his trunk in hand. Hermione stepped out of the car, along with her parents, and Hermione helped Harry put his trunk and Hedwig in the back.

Hermione's parents looked a bit confused about the rush, but didn't say anything. Hermione had told them the Dursleys were the worst sort of people, but they didn't quite believe her at first. This seemed to confirm her statement.

The ride to London was uneventful, with Hermione telling Harry about her summer, and Harry listening patiently. Hermione's parents introduced themselves, and they fell in love with Harry immediately. They arrived at Whitehall, which was where told them they could meet, and Harry saw the Ford Angila parked next to a red telephone booth.

Harry thanked the Grangers, and got out of the car while Hermione exchanged a heartfelt goodbye with her parents. By the time her parents left Harry and Ron had already greeted each other, but that didn't stop Hermione from enveloping Ron in a hug.

Then Mr Weasley said, "Well, now that we are all here, I can show you the ministry. I'm quite happy I was able to clear this little trip with my supervisor." He smiled and led them to a red telelphone booth.

Harry looked over to Ron, "Um, Ron, how is a telephone booth helping us get to the ministry." Harry hoped it wasn't a new method of wizard travel. He already hated floo, he didn't want to add another to the list. There wasn't enough room for all of them, so Harry and Mr. Weasley would go first, then Ron and Hermione.

Mr. Weasley opened the telephone-box door. Harry stepped inside, wondering what on earth this was about. Mr. Weasley folded himself in beside Harry and closed the door. It was a tight fit; Harry was jammed against the telephone apparatus, which was hanging crookedly from the wall as though a vandal had tried to rip it off. Mr. Weasley reached past Harry for the receiver.

"Mr. Weasley, I think this might be out of order," Harry said.

"No, no, I'm sure it's fine," said Mr. Weasley, holding the receiver above his head and peering at the dial. "Let's see… six…" he dialed the number, "two… four… and another four… and another two…"

As the dial whirred smoothly back into place, a cool female voice sounded inside the telephone box, not from the receiver in Mr. Weasley's hand, but as loudly and plainly as though an invisible woman were standing right beside them.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Er…" said Mr. Weasley, clearly uncertain whether or not he should talk into the receiver. He compromised by holding the mouthpiece to his ear, "Arthur Weasley, Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, here to escort Harry Potter, as well as his friend and my son to my workplace, to show them around…"

"Thank you," said the cool female voice.

"Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. He picked it up: it was a square silver badge with Harry Potter, intern, on it. He pinned it to the front of his T-shirt as the female voice spoke again.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The floor of the telephone box shuddered. They were sinking slowly into the ground. Harry watched apprehensively as the pavement seemed to rise up past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads. Then he could see nothing at all; he could hear only a dull grinding noise as the telephone box made its way down through the earth.

After about a minute, though it felt much longer to Harry, a chink of golden light illuminated his feet and, widening, rose up his body, until it hit him in the face and he had to blink to stop his eyes from watering.

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day," said the woman's voice.

The door of the telephone box sprang open and Mr. Weasley stepped out of it, followed by Harry, whose mouth had fallen open. They were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark wood floor. The peacock blue ceiling was inlaid with gleaming golden symbols that kept moving and changing like some enormous heavenly notice board. The walls on each side were paneled in shiny dark wood and had many gilded fireplaces set into them. Every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft whoosh.

On the right-hand side, short queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace, waiting to depart. Halfway down the hall was a fountain. A group of golden statues, larger than life-size, stood in the middle of a circular pool. Tallest of them all was a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air. Grouped around him were a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin and a house-elf. The last three were all looking adoringly up at the witch and wizard. Glittering jets of water were flying from the ends of their wands, the point of the centaur's arrow, the tip of the goblins hat and each of the house-elf's ears, so that the tinkling hiss of falling water was added to the pops and cracks of the Apparators and the clatter of footsteps as hundreds of witches and wizards, most of whom were wearing glum, early-morning looks, strode towards a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

They waited by the elevator until Ron and Hermione came down as well, both also wearing silver badges that said 'intern'. Mr. Weasley looked at the both of them

"This way," said Mr. Weasley. They joined the throng, wending their way between the Ministry workers, some of whom were carrying tottering piles of parchment, others battered briefcases; still others were reading the Daily Prophet while they walked.

They passed through security and ended up at an elevator where Mr. Weasley pressed the button for level two, and they passed into where he said his office was.

Ron, Harry and hermione exchanged a look, and then Harry said, "Mr. Weasley! I left my...my uh, sneakascope in the atrium. Could I run down to grab it? I'll be quick."

He considered it for a moment, then said, "Alright, but take someone with you please, don't want you getting lost do we?"

"I'll go!" Ron and Hermione said at the same time. Mr Weasley chuckled, "Ah, all three of you can go, but remember to stay together."

They got into the elevator and looked at eachother. "So," Ron said, "where do you reckon they keep the files for wizarding children and stuff?"

Hermione examined the buttons, "Level three is the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, including the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, Obliviator Headquarters, and Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee. They probably keep the records there."

She pressed the button and the elevator began moving the two looked at Harry, "DO the have the cloak?" Hermione asked.

Harry reached inside his pocket and pulled it out, "Right here." He covered the three of them with it just as the doors opened. They walked out of the elevator with no one in the area any the wiser. Granted, this floor wasn't very busy. There was only a few people at some scattered desks. It seemed that today was a slow day for the department.

The three looked around for any sort of records hall, and finally found it. There was a gold plaque above a door that read, "Registry for Magic-Users". They hurried towards it and tried to quickly open the door. Luckily no one saw them go in, or if they did they didn't take any notice. Once inside the small room they took off the cloak.

The only piece of furniture in the room was a large book on a pedestal. Harry was the first the walk over to it. after months of worry he was finally going to figure it out. He couldn't believe it. In a sense it was almost surreal. He began imagining that he would contact his true family and he could have a real, live family. It was something he had dreamed of his whole life.

Harry began flipping through the pages, turning them back to the year 1980. "I should start looking at children born around June 1st, James Potter said I was only a month old, so I should have been born around that time."

There were only four magical children born in the month of June 1980. One was a muggleborn girl, another was a pureblood girl named Tracey Davis, and the third was Draco Malfoy. Harry didn't know Malfoy was born in June, but it was the fourth name that made his blood run cold.

He sank to the floor, Ron and Hermione looking at the name and then gasping. They couldn't...comprehend what was happening. They sat beside Harry trying to console him.

At the bottom of the page it neat handwriting was the name Antonius Arcturus Malfoy.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry so much time has passed, this chapter is longer than usual, so enjoy! Don't forget to review and favorite stuff. And seriously, don't like something, tell me.**


	4. Chapter 4: Elevator

**Chapter Four: Elevator**

* * *

Harry couldn't breathe. He couldn't even form a coherent thought right now. _The Malfoys, My- my- family, but Lucius, my father, the chamber. Death Eater. Murderer._ Out of all the families it could have been.

Harry was vaguely aware of Hermione putting up a silencing spell, and Ron backing away from him. This was just too surreal. And his parents. He had been found in a ritual circle, had his parents given him to Voldemort? Malfoy was evil. He was evil. His friends were going to abandon him. They wouldn't want to be around him now, not now when was a Malfoy of all things.

He became vaguely aware of Hermione and Ron shouting at eachother. Luckily Hermione had put up that silencing spell. He began listening to what they were saying.

"No! You listen Ronald," Hermione was saying, "Harry is our friend, don't you say things like that!"

"But Hermione! His entire family is are death eaters, what if he has dark magic! His family is made up of _Slytherins!"_

"Not every evil is from Slytherin! Look at Peter Pettigrew. He was a model Gryffindor, but he turned out to be one of Voldemort's servants. Your family doesn't define who you are as a person. You should know better."

Ron's face turned red, "Stop acting so high and mighty, how could you accept this? He's probably going to run to mummy and daddy right now! Probably knew all along and was playing the both of us for fools! Met up with his 'brother' after classes and spent the night laughing at us both!"

Harry finally found his voice, "Please," he said, his voice barely a whisper, "just, just, stop. I can't handle you two fighting right now." He stood up and began talking louder almost shouting.

"I finally get a family, the one thing I have always wanted since I was a toddler living under the stairs, and now I have one. Unfortunately it is a buried in sand and barb wire. Finally, I get a family, but they are death eaters! Did you ever think for one moment about HOW THIS IS AFFECTING ME!"

Hermione and Ron stared at Harry in shock. He was breathing hard and tears threatened to fall from the corners of his eyes. Harry didn't shout. most of the time he was mild mannered and quiet' even when Ron and Hermione were fighting, he didn't intervene. Now he was a mess.

Surprisingly, it was Ron who spoke first. His voice was accusing, "Prove to us then," he said, "Prove to us that you aren't simply spying on us. Prove that our friendship isn't a lie."

Harry looked at Ron in anger, "ALRIGHT THEN! HOW ABOUT WHEN WE FOUGHT A MOUNTAIN IN FIRST YEAR! OR RESCUED THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE! HOW ABOUT WHEN I SAVED YOUR BLOODY SISTER FROM A BASILISK!" He continued, his voice quieter, "MY apparent 'father' gave your sister that diary and I destroyed it. I almost died in the process. If Fawkes hadn't healed me I would be dead. Doesn't sound like I was following Daddy's orders does it? I don't care if you don't believe me anymore Ron, because if you don't trust me, then you weren't a friend worth having."

At this point Harry had tears of anger trailing down his face. Hermione and Ron too, both had tears on their faces.

Ron spoke up, "Harry...I'm...I'm...sorry. I didn't think…." He sighed, "I was raised to think all Malfoys were evil, and they couldn't be trusted. I was raised to think Slytherin and Dark were equivalent with bad, but I guess in the end I'm as much a bigot as the rest of them, just in a different sort of way. You're my friend Harry, and I shouldn't let you being a Malfoy get in the way of that."

Hermione nodded, "Same goes for me Harry, I never mattered to me who your parents are, you will always be my friend." With that she took both Ron and Harry in a hug, the three of them as close as friends as ever.

When they broke apart, Hermione said, "We really should be getting back, after all, Mr. Weasley is probably wondering where we are." The other two nodded and laughed and they slipped under the cloak, ready to leave.

Before they left the records room Ron said, "Bet you have blonde hair." Harry made a face at this. That had never occurred to him. In fact, he was probably Draco's twin. He didn't quite know how he felt about this.

They managed to get into the elevator without problem, and pressed the button for level two. The elevator started moving, but instead of going up it went down to level five, the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

All three of them froze. Someone else was getting on the lift. This wasn't part of the plan, no one was supposed to see them.

"Ron," Harry whispered, "do you actually have a sneakascope with you?"

"Yah, in my pocket," he said.

"Good," Harry said, "Give it to me so our story sounds a bit more credible." Ron handed over the sneakscope, and Harry put it in his pocket. The doors opened to reveal the last person they wanted to see right now, Lucius Malfoy.

Immediately Harry's face drained of all color and he seemed likely to faint. When Lucius caught sight of them his mouth turned up in a shark-like grin.

"Well, well, well," he started in an aristocratic drawl, "what do we have here? A few Gryffindors of on their own?"

Ron spoke first, his surprise somehow allowing him to speak, "W-w-we're," he stuttered, "here with my Dad...Harry…" He trailed off, not quite sure what to say, because even the mention of the word dad seemed to remind him of the truth.

Hermione was then able to find her voice, "He forgot his sneakscope in the atrium," she said matter-of-factly, "we found it, and are returning to level two. We didn't plan on making a stop at level five."

Harry still couldn't say anything. He looked frightened and shocked out of his mind. For some reason he thought Lucius would know who he was, although there was practically no way to tell, but the chances of meeting him now were so low. It was as if fate hated him.

"In that case," Lucius said, "You should be heading back." he pressed the level two button and the lift began going up. "I can't stand the stench of mudblood filth much longer."

Ron's face turned red, and without thinking he looked at Lucius Malfoy and said, "Funny, for an 'innocent' death eater you sound an awful lot like one."

Lucius' superiors face fell, and he looked at the three of them threateningly, "I wouldn't go accusing people of things like that Mr. Weasley. I would be careful or you might find yourself in an unfortunate situation." not to miss a jab at the boy-who-lived he continued, "Much like Mr. Potter's parents."

At the end of this declaration two things happened at once. The elevator opened at level two, and Harry began laughing uncontrollably. Ron and Hermione exchanged a glance and then grabbed Harry, pulling him out of the elevator. Ron found it quite satisfying to watch the confused and slightly scared face of Lucius Malfoy disappear and as the elevator doors shut.

They pulled Harry to a corner as they tried to calm him down. He was still laughing and it was starting to scare both of them.

"Harry!" Hermione said, "Pay attention!" she slapped him on the face, and Harry stopped laughing. He looked at both Ron and Hermione and said, "Did that really just happen?"

Ron nodded and Harry let out a quiet snicker, "Fate hates me. I can't believe….I was barely holding it together, you know? And then when he said the part about my parents."

Hermione cracked a smile, "It was rather funny, wasn't it?"

"Only funny?" Ron said, "That was down right hilarious! And then you should have seen his face as the elevator shut. He thought you had gone mad."

This time all three of them laughed, needing to find something funny out of this dismal situation. They headed back to Mr. Weasley, who asked why they were gone so long, and then continued to show them around his office.

This would have been interesting to Harry any other time, but right now he had bigger things to think on. First off, what to do when he turned fifteen. He had about a year before he actually became Antonius, and what a posh name that was. Then again, it could have been worse, at least he could shorten his birth name to Toni or something.

Harry could try to find a way to reset the charmes, but he think he needed blood of the Potters, which is something he couldn't get. Not only because he was against grave robbing, but because there probably wasn't any blood left. there was a possibility of there being another kind of charm, but he didn't think it would be as permanent. He could always rip his hair out and take polyjuice, but Harry didn't know if his hair would turn him into Harry Potter or Antonius Malfoy, that would actually be an interesting experiment.

Technically the charms were only on his appearance, so if someone else took an polyjuice potion of himself, he didn't think the charms would hold. Harry wondered if he could get Ron to do this for him, after all he would really like to see what he looked like.

Another thought suddenly came to Harry did that mean his voice also sounded like Malfoy's? He had never heard any correlation before, but Harry had a Surrey accent, which was very different from the Malfoy's upper class drawling accents.

He decided to try this maybe a bit later, when Mr. Weasley wasn't excitedly babbling on about muggles. The day went quickly, and before Harry knew it he was in a bed next to Ron's in the burrow. Hermione was also there, and all three of them were talking excitedly about the world cup.

"Sure, Fred and George say ireland is going to win, but Bulgaria has Krum," Ron said.

"Krum?" asked Harry, he didn't know who this Krum guy was.

"You don't know who Krum is?" said Ron, "He is one of the best seekers to ever fly! He's amazing, and he is still in school. I believe he goes to Durmstrang."

After a bit more quidditch talk harry brought up his polyjuice idea. "I would really like to see what I look like before the charms break, you know."

"But Harry!" Ron said, "I would end up looking like a Malfoy for about an hour…fine, I'll do it, but how are we going to get the ingredients?

"We could get them when we go to Diagon to get our school supplies," Hermione said, "but are you sure this will work?"

"I think it will," Harry said. "I mean it makes sense, doesn't it? The charm only affect my appearance."

"Then how come you don't sound like Malfoy?" Ron asked.

Harry rubbed his hand on the back of his neck sheepishly,"Well," he said, "I think I do. After all, I live in Surrey, and Malfoy has that posh accent."

"Go on then," Hermione said, "Say something...Dracoish."

Harry cleared his throat and said in the poshest accent he could muster, "My father will hear about this!"

Ron and Hermione began laughing. "You sound exactly like him. Do you know what we could do with this?" Ron said.

"I guess we could play some pranks or something," Harry said, "I could owl Sirius and have him give me some ideas. After all, he was a Marauder."

They continued talking long into the night about every topic they could think of, and soon Hermione had left and Harry and Ron had begun to fall asleep. For the first time in a while, Harry slept well, and his dreams were full of flying and snitches.

* * *

 **Author's Note: And here's another chapter! Sorry there wasn't much action, but next chapter is the world cup, and I plan to have lots of fun with that….Draco and Harry interaction, death eaters, and much more. I'll try to have it posted within the next week. The ending of this chapter was a bit choppy, but my inspiration for this chapter just stopped, so I ended it...**


	5. Chapter 5: The World Cup

**Chapter Five: The World Cup**

* * *

Harry thought the campground was amazing. He had never seen so many different nationalities of wizards before. He loved every bit of it, the sights, the sounds, and the smells. The Weasley's tent was even better, with an entire kitchen and at least four bedrooms. It was all just so fantastic Harry forgot all of his problems.

Once they had all settled in they Weasleys, Harry and Hermione began to make their way to the top box of the stadium. Once there, the usual pleasantries were exchanged before the trio sat down to wait.

As they watched the box filled gradually around them over the next half hour. Mr. Weasley kept shaking hands with people who were obviously very important wizards. Percy jumped to his feet so often that he looked as though he were trying to sit on a hedgehog. When Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic himself, arrived, Percy bowed so low that his glasses fell off and shattered. Highly embarrassed, he repaired them with his wand and thereafter remained in his seat, throwing jealous looks at Harry, whom Cornelius Fudge had greeted like an old friend. They had met before, and Fudge shook Harry's hand in a fatherly fashion, asked how he was, and introduced him to the wizards on either side of him.

Harry really couldn't possibly care less. He found the minister to be a rather despicable man with no sense of self-respect. He threw himself at the richest person in the room, begging for anything. He tried to get out of speaking with him by telling the Minister that he was busy playing a game with ron and Hermione, but Fudge would let him go sit back down.

He tried to mentally plead with Ron and Hermione to help him, but he shrugged, there was nothing they could do.

"Harry Potter, you know," Fudge began to tell the Bulgarian minister loudly, who was wearing splendid robes of black velvet trimmed with gold and didn't seem to understand a word of English.

"Harry Potter ... oh come on now, you know who he is ... the boy who survived You-Know-Who ... you do know who he is -"

The Bulgarian wizard suddenly spotted Harry's scar and started gabbling loudly and excitedly, pointing at it.

"Knew we'd get there in the end," said Fudge wearily to Harry. "I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing. Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat... Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places ... ah, and here's Lucius!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned quickly. Edging along the second row to three still-empty seats right behind Mr. Weasley were none other than Dobby the house-elf's former owners: Lucius Malfoy, Draco; and a woman Harry supposed must be Draco's mother. His mother. Oh God.

Harry and Draco Malfoy had been enemies ever since their very first journey to Hogwarts.

A pale boy with a pointed face and white-blond hair, Draco greatly resembled his father. Harry wondered if that was a hereditary thing, because if him and Draco were twins, wouldn't that mean he would look rather like Lucius as well? Then again, not all twins looked alike, but he had yet to meet any who didn't.

Narcissa Malfoy was blonde too; tall and slim, she would have been nice-looking if she hadn't been wearing a look that suggested there was a nasty smell under her nose. She reminded Harry a bit too much of Petunia when she was talking about the neighbors at Number 7 Privet Drive.

She didn't seem motherly in any way shape or form, but Harry hoped she acted differently in private. He didn't think he could stand to have a woman so cold as his mother. He looked over to Ron and Hermione who were giving him matching sympathetic looks.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, holding out his hand as he reached the Minister of Magic.

"How are you? I don't think you've met my wife, Narcissa? Or our son, Draco?"

"How do you do, how do you do?" said Fudge, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Malfoy. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr. Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr. - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, and he can't understand a word I'm saying anyway, so never mind. And

let's see who else - you know Arthur Weasley, I daresay?"

It was a tense moment. Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy looked at each other and Harry vividly recalled the last time they had come face-to-face: It had been in Flourish and Blotts' bookshop, and they had had a fight. That was literally the last thing Harry wanted right now, he wasn't sure his nerves could take it. Mr. Malfoy's cold gray eyes swept over Mr. Weasley, and then up and down the row.

"Good lord, Arthur," he said softly. "What did you have to sell to get seats in the Top Box? Surely your house wouldn't have fetched this much?"

Harry was torn between curling up into a ball and sobbing, or attacking his dearest father right now. How could he even be related to such pricks? They all seemed incredibly snobbish, and to make a comment like that to another person? It was downright despicable. Harry couldn't imagine saying anything like that to anyone. This was his family?

Fudge, who wasn't listening, said, "Lucius has just given a very generous contribution to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, Arthur. He's here as my guest."

"How - how nice," said Mr. Weasley, with a very strained smile.

Mr. Malfoy's eyes had returned to Hermione, who went slightly pink, but stared determinedly back at him. Harry knew exactly what was making his father's lip curl like that. The Malfoys, except for Harry, prided themselves on being purebloods; in other words, they considered anyone of Muggle descent, like Hermione, second-class. Harry wondered if he could ever believe in that pureblood supremacy shite. After all, if didn't make any sense.

Hermione was the best witch in their year, and although Crabbe and Goyle might be purebloods they are as dumb as rocks.

Lucius nodded sneeringly to and continued down the line to his seats. Draco shot Harry, Ron, and Hermione one contemptuous look, then settled himself between his mother and father. For a strange moment, Harry envied them. They may be complete snobs, but at least they were a family.

He could almost place himself into that picture. He would sit next to Draco, and maybe Draco wouldn't be so spoiled with a brother around. Maybe the Malfoy family as a whole would be less icy if they hadn't lost a child. He knew it was only wishful thinking, but that's the thing about wishes, they don't need to make sense. They only need to be dreams for the future.

"Sorry mate," Ron muttered as he, Harry, and Hermione turned to face the field again.

Next moment, Ludo Bagman charged into the box.

"Everyone ready?" he said, his round face gleaming like a great, excited Edam. "Minister - ready to go?"

"Ready when you are, Ludo," said Fudge comfortably.

Ludo whipped out his wand, directed it at his own throat, and said "Sonorus!" and then spoke over the roar of sound that was now filling the packed stadium; his voice echoed over them, booming into every corner of the stands.

"Ladies and gentlemen. . . welcome! Welcome to the final of the four hundred and twenty-second Quidditch World Cup!"

…

After the game, Harry was still on a quidditch high, and he felt as though nothing could get him down. He stayed up, recounting the game over and over for hours, until they were all sent off to bed. He dreamed of being a seeker in that game, when suddenly he was woken by Mr. Weasley's voice.

"Get up! Ron - Harry - come on now, get up, this is urgent!"

Harry sat up quickly and the top of his head hit canvas.

"S' matter?" he said.

Dimly, he could tell that something was wrong. The noises in the campsite had changed.

The singing had stopped. He could hear screams, and the sound of people running. He slipped down from the bunk and reached for his clothes, but Mr. Weasley, who had pulled on his jeans over his own pajamas, said, "No time, Harry - just grab a jacket and get outside - quickly!"

Harry did as he was told and hurried out of the tent, Ron at his heels.

By the light of the few fires that were still burning, he could see people running away into the woods, fleeing something that was moving across the field toward them, something that was emitting odd flashes of light and noises like gunfire. Loud jeering, roars of laughter, and drunken yells were drifting toward them; then came a burst of strong green light, which illuminated the scene.

A crowd of wizards, tightly packed and moving together with wands pointing straight upward, was marching slowly across the field. Harry squinted at them. . . . They didn't seem to have faces. . . . Then he realized that their heads were hooded and their faces masked. High above them, floating along in midair, four struggling figures were being contorted into grotesque shapes. It was as though the masked wizards on the ground were puppeteers, and the people above them were marionettes operated by invisible strings that rose from the wands into the air. Two of the figures were very small.

More wizards were joining the marching group, laughing and pointing up at the floating bodies. Tents crumpled and fell as the marching crowd swelled. Once or twice Harry saw one of the marchers blast a tent out of his way with his wand. Several caught fire. The screaming grew louder.

The floating people were suddenly illuminated as they passed over a burning tent and Harry recognized one of them: Mr. Roberts, the campsite manager. The other three looked as though they might be his wife and children.

One of the marchers below flipped upside down with his wand; her nightdress fell down to reveal voluminous drawers and she struggled to cover herself up as the crowd below her screeched and hooted with glee.

"That's sick," Ron muttered, watching the smallest Muggle child, who had begun to spin like a top, sixty feet above the ground, his head flopping limply from side to side.

"That is really sick. . . ."

Hermione and Ginny came hurrying toward them, pulling coats over their nightdresses, with Mr. Weasley right behind them. At the same moment, Bill, Charlie, and Percy emerged from the boys' tent, fully dressed, with their sleeves rolled up and their wands out.

"We're going to help the Ministry!" Mr. Weasley shouted over all the noise, rolling up his own sleeves. "You lot - get into the woods, and stick together. I'll come and fetch you when we've sorted this out!"

Bill, Charlie, and Percy were already sprinting away toward the oncoming marchers; Mr. Weasley tore after them. Ministry wizards were dashing from every direction toward the source of the trouble. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was coming ever closer.

"C'mon," said Fred, grabbing Ginny's hand and starting to pull her toward the wood.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and George followed. They all looked back as they reached the trees. The crowd beneath the Roberts family was larger than ever; they could see the Ministry wizards trying to get through it to the hooded wizards in the center, but they were having great difficulty. It looked as though they were scared to perform any spell that might make the Roberts family fall.

The colored lanterns that had lit the path to the stadium had been extinguished. Dark figures were blundering through the trees; children were crying; anxious shouts and panicked voices were reverberating around them in the cold night air. Harry felt himself being pushed hither and thither by people whose faces he could not see. Then he heard Ron yell with pain.

"What happened?" said Hermione anxiously, stopping so abruptly that Harry walked into her. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid - lumos!"

She illuminated her wand and directed its narrow beam across the path. Ron was lying sprawled on the ground.

"Tripped over a tree root," he said angrily, getting to his feet again.

"Well, with feet that size, hard not to," said a drawling voice from behind them.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione turned sharply. Draco Malfoy was standing alone nearby, leaning against a tree, looking utterly relaxed. His arms folded, he seemed to have been watching the scene at the campsite through a gap in the trees.

Ron told Malfoy to do something that Harry knew he would never have dared say in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"Language, Weasley," said Malfoy, his pale eyes glittering. "Hadn't you better be hurrying along, now? You wouldn't like her spotted, would you?"

He nodded at Hermione, and at the same moment, a blast like a bomb sounded from the campsite, and a flash of green light momentarily lit the trees around them. Harry took a deep breath in and tried not to kill his brother.

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Hermione defiantly. "Granger, they're after Muggles, "said Malfoy. "D'you want to be showing off your knickers in midair? Because if you do, hang around. . . they're moving this way, and it would give us all a laugh."

This was the last straw for Harry. Oh Merlin, why did his only family has to be full of such stuck-up arses? He let out a cruel, bitter laugh, before quickly casting expelliarmus at Draco before he knew what was happening. Draco's wand went flying and before he could do anything else Harry had shoved him up against a tree.

"Hermione is a witch," he snarled, "Not a mudblood, not a muggle, a witch. She is single-handedly one of the smartest people I know and I am tired of you pureblood supremacy bullshit."

Draco looked at Harry with emotions running across his face. Anger, fear, shock, and surprise. He hadn't expected Potter to fight back in any way. Harry let him go and Draco jumped away from him, quickly picking up his wand and trying to regain his composure.

There came a bang from the other side of the trees that was louder than anything they had heard. it served the purpose of breaking Malfoy's state of shock. Several people nearby screamed. Malfoy attempted to laugh

"Scare easily, don't they?" he said, trying for collected but sounding nervous, "I suppose your daddy told you all to hide? What's he up to - trying to rescue the Muggles?"

"Where're your parents?" said Harry, his temper rising. "Out there wearing masks, are they? I knew they would be, after all, they were Death Eaters in the last war, why not join in the new one? I heard Auntie Bella let Voldemort stay in her home, wonder if she was his whore for hire?"

For once, it was Malfoy who lost his composure, "Don't talk about my family that way, Potter! You could only hope to be half as good as a Malfoy." He ended his sentence with a sneer and his face was red with anger.

Harry gave a shark-like grin and said, "Alright Malfoy, we'll go. Sorry for making you so flustered." Somehow the positions had switched throughout the conversation. Now harry was the calm, collected predator and Draco was the prey.

"Oh come on," said Hermione, with a disgusted look at Draco, "let's go and find the others."

Malfoy only stood dumbly in the shadows of the fires as the three of them made their way into the forest.

* * *

 **Author's Note: HA! Another Chapter! Good job me, so excited for next chapter already...I can't wait!**

 **Author's Note: So I was left a review and told Harry wouldn't recognize the Malfoy's as his parents quite yet, and I agree, so I went back and changed a line or two...shout out to Iphigelina for pointing this out**


	6. Chapter 6: The Triwizard Tournament

**Chapter Six: The Triwizard Tournament**

* * *

Fourth year began without anything particularly special happening, and for someone going through a pretty serious identity crisis this sort of situation was perfect for Harry. He hoped this year would be easy, and he could focus on what to do on his fifteenth birthday.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry had already stayed up many a night, plotting different ways to cover up Harry Potter's 'disappearance' in order to make the 'reappearance' of Antonius Malfoy less suspicious. It's not like they could tell the wizarding world who Harry Potter really was. It would cause mass panic for a multitude of reasons, and Harry would be handed to Voldemort on a silver platter. After all, the Malfoy's would be willing to give Harry up at the first command their 'Lord' gave them.

All in all, this made the announcement of the Triwizard tournament all the more disappointing for Harry, and he told Ron and Hermione this.

"Can't I have one normal year?" He asked, "Just one? I don't want these other school here and a life-threatening tournament and reporters calling on the walls."

Hermione gave him what might have supposed to have been a comforting smile and said, "At least the spotlight will be off you, right?"

"Yah," Ron agreed, "People will be so busy admiring the competitors they won't care about you."

Harry smiled, "In a weird sort of way, that's actually comforting. "

Then It was Halloween, and everything fell apart.

Finally, the choosing of the champions was over, and Dumbledore went to make his end speech when the fire in the goblet turned red again. Sparks were flew out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the slip in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out -

"Harry Potter."

Harry sat there, aware that every head in the Great Hall had turned to look at him. He was stunned. He felt numb. He was surely dreaming. He had not heard correctly. This kind of thing always happened to him. He felt like crying and laughing at the same time.

There was no applause. A buzzing, as though of angry bees, was starting to fill the Hall; some students were standing up to get a better look at Harry as he sat, frozen, in his seat.

Up at the top table, Professor McGonagall had got to her feet and swept past Ludo Bagman and Professor Karkaroff to whisper urgently to Professor Dumbledore, who bent his ear toward her, frowning slightly.

Harry turned to Ron and Hermione; beyond them, he saw the long Gryffindor table all watching him, open mouthed.

"I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."

Ron and Hermione looked back at Harry with faces full of pity. They knew this wasn't what he wanted in any way shape or form.

At the top table, Professor Dumbledore had straightened up, nodding to Professor McGonagall.

"Harry Potter!" he called again. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," Hermione whispered, giving Harry a slight push. Ron gave Harry a comforting pat on the back as he went to get up.

Harry got to his feet, trod on the hem of his robes, and stumbled slightly. He set off up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables. It felt like an immensely long walk; the top table didn't seem to be getting any nearer at all, and he could feel hundreds and hundreds of eyes upon him, as though each were a searchlight. The buzzing grew louder and louder. After what seemed like an hour, he was right in front of Dumbledore, feeling the stares of all the teachers upon him.

"Well...through the door, Harry," said Dumbledore. He wasn't smiling.

Harry moved off along the teachers' table. Hagrid was seated right at the end. He did not wink at Harry, or wave, or give any of his usual signs of greeting. He looked completely astonished and stared at Harry as he passed like everyone else. Harry went through the door out of the Great Hall and found himself in a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards. A handsome fire was roaring in the fireplace opposite him.

The faces in the portraits turned to look at him as he entered. He saw a wizened witch flit out of the frame of her picture and into the one next to it, which contained a wizard with a walrus mustache. The wizened witch started whispering in his ear.

Viktor Krum, Cedric Diggory, and Fleur Delacour were grouped around the fire. They looked strangely impressive, silhouetted against the flames. Krum, hunched-up and brooding, was leaning against the mantelpiece, slightly apart from the other two. Cedric was standing with his hands behind his back, staring into the fire. Fleur Delacour looked around when Harry walked in and threw back her sheet of long, silvery hair.

"What is it?" she said. "Do zey want us back in ze Hall?"

She thought he had come to deliver a message. Harry didn't know how to explain what had just happened. He just stood there, looking at the three champions. It struck him how very tall all of them were.

There was a sound of scurrying feet behind him, and Ludo Bagman entered the room. He took Harry by the arm and led him forward.

"Extraordinary!" he muttered, squeezing Harry's arm. "Absolutely extraordinary! Gentlemen...lady," he added, approaching the fireside and addressing the other three. "May I introduce - incredible though it may seem - the fourth Triwizard champion?"

Viktor Krum straightened up. His surly face darkened as he surveyed Harry. Cedric looked nonplussed. He looked from Bagman to Harry and back again as though sure he must have misheard what Bagman had said. Fleur Delacour, however, tossed her hair, smiling, and said, "Oh, very funny joke, Meester Bagman."

"Joke?" Bagman repeated, bewildered. "No, no, not at all! Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Krum's thick eyebrows contracted slightly. Cedric was still looking politely bewildered. Fleur frowned.

"But evidently zair 'as been a mistake," she said contemptuously to Bagman. "'E cannot compete. 'E is too young."

"Well...it is amazing," said Bagman, rubbing his smooth chin and smiling down at Harry. "But, as you know, the age restriction was only imposed this year as an extra safety measure. And as his name's come out of the goblet...I mean, I don't think there can be any ducking out at this stage...It's down in the rules, you're obliged...Harry will just have to do the best he -"

The door behind them opened again, and a large group of people came in: Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Mr. Crouch, Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape. Harry heard the buzzing of the hundreds of students on the other side of the wall, before Professor McGonagall closed the door.

"Madame Maxime!" said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. "Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!"

Somewhere under Harry's numb disbelief he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy?

Madame Maxime had drawn herself up to her full, and considerable, height. The top of her handsome head brushed the candle-filled chandelier, and her gigantic black-satin bosom swelled.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" she said imperiously.

"I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," said Professor Karkaroff. He was wearing a steely smile, and his blue eyes were like chips of ice. "Two Hogwarts champions? I don't remember anyone telling me the host school is allowed two champions - or have I not read the rules carefully enough?"

He gave a short and nasty laugh.

"C'est impossible," said Madame Maxime, whose enormous hand with its many superb opals was resting upon Fleur's shoulder. "'Ogwarts cannot 'ave two champions. It is most injust."

"We were under the impression that your Age Line would keep out younger contestants, Dumbledore," said Karkaroff, his steely smile still in place, though his eyes were colder than ever. "Otherwise, we would, of course, have brought along a wider selection of candidates from our own schools."

"It's no one's fault but Potter's, Karkaroff," said Snape softly. His black eyes were alight with malice. "Don't go blaming Dumbledore for Potter's determination to break rules. He has been crossing lines ever since he arrived here -"

"Thank you, Severus," said Dumbledore firmly, and Snape went quiet, though his eyes still glinted malevolently through his curtain of greasy black hair.

Professor Dumbledore was now looking down at Harry, who looked right back at him, trying to discern the expression of the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles.

"Did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire, Harry?" he asked calmly.

"No," said Harry. He was very aware of everybody watching him closely. Snape made a soft noise of impatient disbelief in the shadows.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" said Professor Dumbledore, ignoring Snape.

"No," said Harry vehemently, angry now at the comments and questioning. "In fact, if you want me to I will renounce my right at champion right here and now. This is the last thing I want to be doing, and I refuse to compete."

Karkaroff Smiled, and said, "This makes sense Dumbledore, the boy wants to renounce his championship, we must let him, as to make this competition fair to the other competitors.

Bagman wiped his round, boyish face with his handkerchief and looked at Mr. Crouch, who was standing outside the circle of the firelight, his face half hidden in shadow. He looked slightly eerie, the half darkness making him look much older, giving him an almost skull-like appearance. When he spoke, however, it was in his usual curt voice.

"We must follow the rules, and the rules state clearly that those people whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete in the tournament."

Harry snorted, "Well, do the rules say anything about people whose names come out of the Goblet that refuse to compete?"

"Well, Barty knows the rule book back to front, so he mustn't be wrong" said Bagman, sweating nervously and turning back to Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, as though the matter was now closed.

Harry looked at Bagman in shock. How could this man decide what he should do with his life just like that? It was ridiculous! "How dare you!" Harry said, "I won't let anyone decide what I do with my life like that! Do I look like a gullible infant to you? That's it! I'm done with this tournament!" Harry made a move to walk out the door when a voice interrupted him.

"Empty threat, Potter," growled a voice from near the door. "You can't leave now. You've got to 've all got to compete. Binding magical contract, like Dumbledore said. Convenient, eh?"

"What do you mean, binding magical contract?" Harry asked.

"Exactly what I said Potter," Moody continued, "Your name came out of the Goblet, and the second that happens the magic of the artifact latches onto the magic of the person the name belongs to and it forces them to compete or die. It's the same reason no one except the champions can compete. The goblet won't let anyone whose magic doesn't match a name it has chosen compete. Do you want to die, Potter?"

Harry gasped. This was bad. This was very

bad. He wasn't born Harry Potter. This potion concealing his identity might not show his true appearance, but it sure didn't mask his magic. If what Moody said was true, and it probably was, the second he tried to complete a task, he was dead.

When Harry began paying attention to the conversation again he heard, "-first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and the panel of judges," Crouch was saying.

"The champions are not permitted to ask for or accept help of any kind from their teachers to complete the tasks in the tournament. The champions will face the first challenge armed only with their wands. They will receive information about the second task when the first is over. Owing to the demanding and time-consuming nature of the tournament, the champions are exempted from end-of-year tests."

Mr. Crouch turned to look at Dumbledore.

"I think that's all, is it, Albus?"

"I think so," said Dumbledore, who was looking at Mr. Crouch with mild concern. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay at Hogwarts tonight, Barty?"

"No, Dumbledore, I must get back to the Ministry," said Mr. Crouch. "It is a very busy, very difficult time at the moment...I've left young Weatherby in charge...Very enthusiastic...a little overenthusiastic, if truth be told..."

"You'll come and have a drink before you go, at least?" said Dumbledore. Harry couldn't believe how calm and flippant the headmaster was being about this whole issue. He acted as though this was perfectly normal.

"Come on, Barry, I'm staying!" said Bagman brightly. "It's all happening at Hogwarts now, you know, much more exciting here than at the office!"

"I think not, Ludo," said Crouch with a touch of his old impatience.

"Professor Karkaroff - Madame Maxime - a nightcap?" said Dumbledore.

But Madame Maxime had already put her arm around Fleur's shoulders and was leading her swiftly out of the room. Harry could hear them both talking very fast in French as they went off into the Great Hall. Karkaroff beckoned to Krum, and they, too, exited, though in silence.

"Harry, Cedric, I suggest you go up to bed," said Dumbledore, smiling at both of them. "I am sure Gryffindor and Hufflepuff are waiting to celebrate with you, and it would be a shame to deprive them of this excellent excuse to make a great deal of mess and noise."

Harry left the room as quickly as possible, leaving Cedric far behind. As the door shut behind him he could already hear the beginning of Snape's rant against him.

Harry didn't know where he could go. He needed somewhere safe, somewhere no one could find him. He needed to think. He needed to be alone. Suddenly he knew where he could go. Harry ran up to the third floor, and quickly made his way up to the girl's bathroom, making sure no one saw him, before slipping inside.

He hissed _§Open§_ and then the top of the sink floated upward, and the chamber of secrets was open. Harry jumped down the pipe, and landed once again in the pile of bones. This was the perfect place to think, and clear his head. After all, he was the only person who could access the chamber.

As he walked through the corridor he was blocked by the pile of rubble. Harry took out his wand, and said _evanesco,_ effectively vanishing the rocks. He wished had known that spell second year. He made his way into the actual chamber, and his eyes fell upon the dead basilisk. With a sigh, Harry sat down in front of the head where he had stabbed the basilisk through the brain with the sword of Gryffindor.

How could he fix this mess he had been thrown into? He couldn't compete because technically Harry James Potter didn't exist, and therefore he couldn't complete any task, but he couldn't not compete, because then everyone would expect him to die.

He sighed, again looking over at the basilisk head. As he stared at the rotting corpse of the king of serpents the answer came to him. He couldn't figure out why he hadn't thought of it sooner. It was so simple.

Harry Potter had to die.

* * *

 **Author's Note: And another chapter gone. I am overjoyed with the response to this story, and reading the reviews people leave is one of the coolest things ever. Seriously, reviews make my day, so please review and tell me what you think. I take their advice to heart. If you don't like something, tell me, and I might change it.**


	7. Chapter 7: The Death of Harry Potter

**Chapter Seven: The Death of Harry Potter**

* * *

Harry realized the situation was spinning out of control, so he decided to owl one of the only adults he could truly trust. Sirius. Harry was to frantic to even address the letter to 'snuffles', he simply took out a piece of parchment, and wrote a sentence.

 _I need help, this weekend at the Hog's Head._

He couldn't include any information that would give away his secret, and Harry could only hope Sirius would be able to show up.

He made his way back to the tower, and after a short argument with the fat Lady and the other woman who had joined her in the painting, he managed to get her to open the door.

The blast of noise that met Harry's ears when the portrait opened almost knocked him backward. Next thing he knew, he was being wrenched inside the common room by about a dozen pairs of hands, and was facing the whole of Gryffindor House, all of whom were screaming, applauding, and whistling.

"You should've told us you'd entered!" bellowed Fred; he looked half annoyed, half deeply impressed.

"How did you do it without getting a beard? Brilliant!" roared George.

"I didn't," Harry said. "I don't know how -"

But Angelina had now swooped down upon him; "Oh if it couldn't be me, at least it's a Gryffindor -"

"You'll be able to pay back Diggory for that last Quidditch match, Harry!" shrieked Katie Bell, another of the Gryffindor Chasers.

"We've got food, Harry, come and have some -"

"I'm not hungry, I had enough at the feast -"

But nobody wanted to hear that he wasn't hungry; nobody wanted to hear that he hadn't put his name in the goblet; not one single person seemed to have noticed that he wasn't at all in the mood to celebrate...Lee Jordan had unearthed a Gryffindor banner from somewhere, and he insisted on draping it around Harry like a cloak.

Harry couldn't get away; whenever he tried to sidle over to the staircase up to the dormitories, the crowd around him closed ranks, forcing another butterbeer on him, stuffing crisps and peanuts into his hands...Everyone wanted to know how he had done it, how he had tricked Dumbledore's Age Line and managed to get his name into the goblet...

"I didn't," he said, over and over again, "I don't know how it happened."

But for all the notice anyone took, he might just as well not have answered at all. He was tired of being ignored, tired of having people assume they knew what he wanted, and what he thought.

When Lee tried to place a crown on Harry's head, it was the last straw. He couldn't take this anymore.

"ENOUGH!" He yelled, "I can't take this anymore! I wish I wasn't in this stupid tournament!" Everybody froze and stared at Harry. He turned around and began stomping up the stairs to his dorm room, feeling rather like a child.

Everybody got out of his way. He supposed he was also angry because he hadn't seen Ron or Hermione, and he wondered where they could have gone.

Everything was crumbling down around him. He thought he had a year to figure out what he could do about his true identity, but now he had less than a month.

It was all happening too fast, and the only people he could turn to were Ron and Hermione. And he didn't know where they were. Then when he went into the boy's dormitory they were already waiting.

"We didn't think you would feel like celebrating, so we came up here," Hermione said.

Harry smiled, even now his friends could cheer him up, "Thanks," he said, "but things have gotten even worse. I found out that the tournament is a magically binding contract, and since I'm not magically Harry Potter…" He trailed, off, not wanting to explain the ending.

Hermione gasped and put her hand to her mouth. Ron gave him a pained grimace. They both understood what a magically binding contract meant; Ron from being wizard-raised, and Hermione from knowing just about everything.

"What are you going to do?" Ron asked.

Harry sighed, "I've decided that Harry Potter had to die."  
"What?!" Hermione yelled, "That doesn't make any sense! You still have a year left on the spell, and I'm sure we could get you out of the tournament one way or another…" near the end of her short tirade she trailed off, understanding that there wasn't much they could do.

"I did owl Sirius," Harry said, "I'm hoping he can help me with all of this."

Hermione smiled, "Well at least there will be some sort of adult involved."

Harry sighed, Hermione was finally appeased, for now at least. For the rest of the night the thre tried to brainstorm different ways to kill off Harry Potter, and have Antonius Malfoy appear, and have the two seem unconnected. It was more difficult that Harry expected. For a moment a thought went through his head that Voldemort would be very happy at the death of his enemy.

They couldn't figure out a good way to fake a death, so the three of them decided to wait for Sirius.

Finally the Hogsmeade weekend came around, and Harry was ready to meet Sirius. He had told Ron and Hermione that it would be too dangerous to have all three of them meet him together. It would make people suspicious. Harry only hoped that Sirius would show.

He walked around the village, keeping his eyes out for a black dog. After a half hour of wandering, and no sign of Sirius, Harry decided to take a break. He began heading towards the three broomsticks, but then he saw a dog standing at the back door of the Hogshead. He headed over to the mutt, and smiled when he recognized Sirius' animagus form.

"Hello Padfoot," Harry said, and then the dog began walking off. Harry followed Padfoot out of the village and into the woods.

He had to climb over rocks until the two of them finally reached a cave. After walking a bit into the cave Sirius transformed, and was immediately enveloped in a hug by Harry.

"Hey there pup," Sirius said. Then he frowned, "You said there was something urgent, what is it?"

Harry sighed, and then proceeded to tell Sirius everything. He was glad that Sirius didn't  
run away at the start of the conversation. He almost expected that to happen, but Sirius stayed through the conversation. His face only showed mild signs of shock.

At the end of the tail he he looked at Harry and said, " I guess there is only one thing I can do." He got up to his feet and looked at Harry, who had also stood up, "I'll have to help to I make sure you don't get yourself killed."

Sure, it might have seemed strange to any outsider. A boy hiding an immense secret and a fugitive sitting in a quiet cve planning the death of the Wizarding World's largest celebrity, but to Harry it was perfect. They talked for a while, discussing time frames and how and when the 'murder should happen.

They ended up deciding that it had to be before the first task, for obvious reasons, least of which being that Harry couldn't even enter the area as a competitor without his magic ripping him apart. His 'death' also had to seem heroic and brilliant, otherwise no one would ever believe he had actually died. The boy-Who-lived had to die a martyr.

At first Sirius thought he could sneak into the castle, and he and Harry could 'fight', and Sirius could slip him some draught of living death, before 'killing' Harry with a wandless Avada Kedavra (Of course it would merely a spell that mimicked the killing curse). Harry decided against this though, he wanted Dumbledore to be fooled, and he knew Sirius was innocent. Harry also didn't want his innocent godfather framed for anything else.

They opened up the Marauders Map and began looking for the names. Harry hoped they could find a death eater lurking in the castle or something similar, so they could engage them in a fight.

The only thing Harry found strange was that Mad-Eye Moody was once again in his office with Barty Crouch...wait a minute, Crouch was also just outside the Forbidden Forest. He pointed this out to Sirius.

"There's no way he can be using a time turner, and Mad-Eye is constantly in his office," Harry said.

Sirius nodded, "There is definitely something odd about this situation, I say you go and check it out. Hopefully you'll find something that will kill you."

Harry smiled, at least there was something here that he could use. They talked a bit longer about the details. Sirius owled ordered some draught of living death and promised to send it to Harry. They also decided that Sirius would come back in a week's time, and sneak in to where his body would be kept and administer the antidote.

They parted ways, and Harry met up with Ron and Hermione, after telling them everything they spent the rest of the day in Hogsmeade, smiling, laughing and happy for the time being.

…

Harry scowled as he tried his best to duel Barty Crouch JR. When he went down to Mad-Eye's office to confront him about his dealings with Bart Crouch he wasn't expecting this. He dodged another killing curse and tried to figure out a way to die without actually dying.

He looked above him and saw the dragon skeleton hanging from the DADA ceiling. He smiled, finally an opening. The skeleton began to fall after Harry threw a well-aimed diffindo curse at it. He dodged out of the way, unfortunately, Crouch Jr. wasn't so lucky.

Harry couldn't tell how badly he been hurt, but he was down and Harry heard footsteps quickly approaching. He quickly pulled out the draught Sirius had sent to him yesterday and drank it. As his vision tunneled he saw the door open and a multitude of Professors standing in the doorway.

…

Sirius scowled, it had been a lot harder this time to sneak into Hogwarts. Dumbledore must have put up more wards. not that Sirius blamed him, it was a good idea. He saw Harry sitting pale as the moon on the hospital bed. For a terrifying moment he wondered if he was actually dead, and he didn't take the draught or-

He stopped himself before he went any further. He had the administer the antidote. Sirius quietly poured the antidote into Harry's mouth and cast a silencing spell. Harry bolted up and started coughing.

He looked at Sirius, "That was far more unpleasant than you made it out to be."

Sirius shrugged, "It was your idea, come on, we have to go."

Harry nodded and the two began to open a window so they could fly away on the two broomsticks Sirius had shrunk.

Suddenly the doors burst open and Ron and Hermione were there. They ran over and hugged Harry.

"We just wanted to say goodbye before you go," Hermione said.

Then Ron spoke, "We also wanted to give you this," he handed Harry a bag. He peeked inside and saw his broomstick, his invisibility cloak, and other personal items. Harry smiled at them.

"Thanks," he said, "but won't someone notice these things missing?"

Ron shook his head, "Nope, we made some pretty convincing replicas by using ...some sort of curse…"

"The Gemino curse," Hermione cut it. "Speaking of replicas, we better make a pretty convincing replica of you. Sirius nodded and pulled out his wand.

He said a quiet spell and a copy of harry appeared on that bed, looking exactly like he did before. Hermione gasped, "How did you do that?"

Sirius smiled, "You'll figure it out," he said with a smile.

Then him and Harry got on the broomsticks and flew off into the night. Harry looked back and saw Ron and Hermione waving at him from the window He smiled, at least Ron and Hermione would know the truth. He would have hated to leave them thinking he was dead.

Harry looked over at Sirius, "So where are we going?"

"Somewhere safe," he laughed and sped up, Harry racing after him.


	8. Chapter 8:Antonius Arcturus Malfoy

**Chapter Eight: Antonius Arcturus Malfoy**

 **So, turns out I literally forgot that I had Barty Crouch Jr. captured last chapter, so here is the fix for that..really sorry guys. Please read and review, hope you enjoy.**

Most people would normally consider a life on the run with a fugitive, and no life to return to a morbid concept, but Harry Potter was having the time of his life. It had been almost seven months after leaving Hogwarts and the 'Boy-Who-Lived' namesake behind, and Harry was happier than he had ever been before. Of course, this might have had to do with the fact that once Sirius found out about the cupboard under the stairs he began to spoil Harry with gifts, trying to make up for the neglect of the Dursleys.

Luckily, Sirius did not let Harry get away with everything. There were a few ground rules, including having to complete all his homework. Remus had put together a very strict set of exercises and textbooks that Harry had to do to be kept caught up in his schoolwork.

Of course, with so much free time, Harry ended up a little bit ahead of the others at Hogwarts. He wasn't at Hermione's level, but he did occasionally firecall her and Ron to check up on them. Whenever they did talk, Hermione always made sure Harry was keeping up on his subjects, and Ron made sure he was still having fun.

Near the end of the school year Dumbledore had dropped by unexpectedly and Harry had to hide quickly to stop his presence from being revealed. The less people that knew he was alive the better. The headmaster had asked Sirius if he could perchance use his ancestral home for the Order of the Phoenix, which Sirius later explained to Harry was a vigilante group dedicated to fighting Voldemort.

Sirius agreed, but told Dumbledore that he didn't want anything to do with the Order this time around, because he was still grieving over the loss of his godson. Dumbledore implored Sirius to go the house, 12 Grimmauld Place, for protection, but Sirius said he was fine in France. Sirius hadn't seen Dumbledore since.

Now it was almost the end date for the potion, Harry was more tense than ever. They had come up with a plan, but that didn't make Harry any less nervous about it.

Then the worst began to happen. Harry woke up on June 5th in one of the bedrooms in the house he and Sirius were currently renting in France, and expected the day to be much like the others. Some schoolwork, some exploring and a lot of magic. He walked into the bathroom to get ready for the day, but saw his reflection and screamed.

Sirius expected to wake up to birds chirping and the sun shining through his window. What he heard instead were the screams of his godson. Sirius raced towards the bathroom a disarming spell on the tip of his tongue, but then he stopped cold when he saw Harry.

He scowled at his godson, "This is what you woke me up for?" He pointed at Harry again, "You knew this was going to happen, and you are still surprised about it."

Sirius turned around and started shambling back in the direction of his bedroom, "I'm going to go back to sleep," he said, "stop waking me up with your identity crisis."

Most people would be surprised at how casual Sirius had acted about the whole situation, but truthfully Harry had been fussing about his appearance a little too much. Every day he would look in the mirror and inspect every inch of his face, trying to spot any differences. Sirius had actually grown annoyed with the whole deal, and as a result had stopped caring as much. And granted he was always there to lend a hand if Harry truly needed help, but this was a matter of vanity.

Harry pulled at parts of his hair, scowling at it. Sometime during the night parts of his hair had turned a platinum blonde color, and as such he now resembled some sort of zebra. His skin had also grown a shade or two lighter, but because of the amount of time he had spent in the sun his skin had a mild tan to it.

About two hours later, Harry was seated at the breakfast table with Sirius, who kept looking up at him and snickering. Finally Harry had enough.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked, glaring at Sirius,

His godfather laughed and said, "It's just…" He paused, probably trying not to insult his godson, "You look like some strange magical creature."

At Harry's angry glare Sirius conjured up a mirror and told Harry to look for himself. Harry glanced in the mirror and saw that his eyes how had silver swirls to them, and although his hair remained unchanged from earlier that morning his skin was now lightly dotted with freckles. He sighed again, this was going to be a long couple of days.

And it was, turns out blood potions were illegal for a reason. They hurt like hell as they wore off. His bones kept aching as they slowly shifted to other positions and lengths, and he couldn't get a good night's sleep for the life of him. Luckily he had Sirius there to help him along, otherwise things could have been much worse. Truly though, he was miserable.

He stood in front of the full length mirror in his room on June 10th, his original birth date, and sighed. He looked so much like Malfoy...Draco….that he felt physically ill. It wasn't like he was horrible deformed or some other such nonsense, but he certainly looked quite different from how he had looked before.

For one thing, his features were in general much sharper than they had been before. His nose more upturned and his chin more pointed. Granted, his hair was much longer than he had ever seen Draco's, it went to his chin, and hung shaggy and unbrushed. He did this both out of habit and out of defiance. Just because he looked like a Malfoy didn't mean he had to keep his hair gelled back like some plastic doll. Luckily his hair covered his scar completely.

He wasn't much taller than he had been before, at least not by more than an inch or two. Harry had been growing through the year, after all. And now reached around 5' 8'', and was happy enough with his height. His eyes were molten silver and he had quite a few freckles from spending so much time in the sun. He now knew why Malfoy was so pale, because he didn't want to look anything less than perfect, and freckles would ruin that.

All in all, he wasn't Harry Potter anymore.

Harry shook his head and asked into the living room, today he was finally going to see Ron and Hermione. After so long long apart he could hardly wait, but he was quite a bit worried about Ron's reaction to his new look. He smiled, well this was his lasts day in 'hiding' before their final plan was executed, and he was happy that his friends would be there with him.

There was a knock on the door, and Harry smiled, racing to open in up. There Ron and Hermione stood in regular muggle clothing looking not much different from the last time he saw them. They hadn't been able to write for fear of a letter being intercepted, so he couldn't wait to talk about everything he had missed.

For a second they stared at his new appearance, but then Hermione said, "Harry, I've missed you so much!" Suddenly Harry found himself with an armful of Hermione and he smiled.

Ron looked at Harry at said, "It's bloody good thing we came to see, otherwise we wouldn't have recognized you!"

The three of them moved into the sitting room, and Sirius poked his head in saying, "Hello Hermione, Ron, spend as long as you need talking. I'll be going to the market to get some more food for us. I've decided to try making spaghetti for dinner."

The three said goodbye to Sirius, and then Harry turned towards his two friend, "So," he said, "what's been happening at Hogwarts?"

Hermione began, " Everyone took your death very hard. The ministry has made you out to be some kind of martyr. Harry Potter is being immortalized as a hero. And do you remember the twi-wizard tournament? Turns out Cedric Diggory got to the cup first, but he came back dead." She lowered her voice to a whisper even though no one was around to eavesdrop, "I saw his body for a mere moment, and it had...words carved into it. They said 'Lord Voldemort has returned'. Of course, the Ministry tried to cover this up and say the portkey had malfunctioned and killed the boy, but no one truly believed that."

She stopped, and Ron picked up the story, "Dumbledore gave a speech and told everyone that Lord Voldemort had returned. He looked older than ever, and warned us that we must stand together. You should have seen it. Everyone looked shaken. They later found Delacour and Krum in the maze unconscious. When Krum aimed consciousness he told them Barty Crouch Jr. had cast the imperious on him, and forced him to torture Fleur. Turns out he had escaped Ministry custody soon after being captured, but the ministry had refused to tell anyone about the escape. When Dumbledore discovered this he was furious. I wasn't there, but I heard he really gave one to Fudge for not informing him about the escape of a very dangerous fugitive. Unfortunately, Crouch was never caught, he fled from Hogwarts right after the tournament was over."

Harry gasped. Barty Crouch Jr. had escaped. The man who he had been having dreams about all summer, gone. The dreams had stopped after Sirius taught Harry some rudimentary Occlumency, but he remembered the ones he'd had. He was the one who put his name in the goblet. Harry probably been the sacrifice intended for Lord Voldemort. That's why Crouch had tried to help him win, he needed Harry to win, so he could take him to Voldemort. They had probably had to make due with Cedric.

Never before had Harry been more glad that he'd left Hogwarts. They began talking about more trivial things, and soon they were eating. The four of them sat around the table and began discussing what they needed for the plot they were planning to pull.

"Do you have the potion," Hermione asked, "It's essential we have that potion otherwise this whole plan is for nothing."

This statement was quite true. Their entire plan revolved around this potion. It was a potion created to imitate memory loss, but still have a way to recover those memories for sure. It was often used for very deep undercover missions for the department of mysteries. The only way to recover these lost memories was to take another dose of the same potion again, but it had to be from the same batch or the potion wouldn't work.

They were planning on having Harry take the potion thereby losing all of his memories, but keeping knowledge of skills he'd learned. The potion only took memories of personal moments, and your identity. The person who took the potion was supposed to still be competent. He would then be dropped off in Diagon Alley near St. Mungos where he would be taken in. Whenever a wizard in child is left alone the details are headliners in the Daily Prophet so Lucius Malfoy would soon recognize the facial features to at the very least be curious about an unknown wizard with amnesia.

Ron and Hermione would stay low and pretend to keep grieving over their friend while Harry would be taken in by his family. It would be for less than a month, and Ron and Hermione could slip him the antidote at Hogwarts.

The plan seemed about as good an idea as anyone could come up with, after all, it would be difficult to introduce any new member of a wizard in family to the public eye casually. And almost a year after the death of Harry Potter, there is no reason for anyone to be suspicious.

After they made sure everything was in place for the plan and finished eating they retired to the sitting room to talk.

"Are you sure you want to do this mate?" Ron asked Harry.

Harry nodded, determination marring his features, "I am."

Sirius looked at his godson, "I believe in you pup," he aside, "And the second you get your own memories back you'd better send me a letter to let me know you are all right. Remus as well, God only knows how much he worries."

Harry smiled, he knew he could do this. It gave him a chance to assimilate to his new identity and there was no chance anyone would recognize him or glean any information from his mind. They had also found a way to hide the lightning bolt scar. And tonight was the night, his final night before going into this mess. That was the only reason Hermione and Ron had managed to sneak out to do this.

They had snuck out of the order's headquarters for the day and would most likely be punished for it later, but they would give some lame excuse about wanting to see muggle London. It's not like Ron or Hermione knew anything what went on in the Order, they were considered too young. They were both only there because ron's family was helping to clean up the place, and his parents were in the Order.

Soon it was time to take the potion, he was going to be dropped off in the Alley quite early in the day, so there weren't as many witnesses around.

Sirius, Ron, and Hermione all stood around Harry as he stood in the living room, holding the potion in his hand, prepared to take the potion.

He smiled nervously, "Well then, bottoms up," he said and then took the Potion.

Harry felt his identity, who he was slip away from his grasp and he let out a gasp, the last thing he remembered as Harry Potter was falling unconscious in a parlor in France.

...

 **Author's Note: I wanted to say I'm quite guilty for not updating this much, much sooner, but everything has been so cray with finals and such...but worry not! They are finally over! I finally have more time for fanfic a now, so worry not my readers updates shall come quicker.**

 **As always please envies It makes my day. No, seriously, every time I see a review I get a burst of complete and utter happiness. :)**


	9. Chapter 9: The Family

**Chapter Nine: The Family**

 **...**

The first thing he remembered was the cold. He didn't understand where or who he was, but he felt the damp stone underneath him and heard voices.

One of them sounded younger, and female. Their voice carried to his ears, but his head felt to heavy, and couldn't lift his eyes to see them.

"Quick, move the scar! He's waking up!" He wondered what scar they were talking about, and if they knew him, could tell him where he was. He tried to say something, but he felt a tingling in his scalp. It didn't hurt, exactly, but it certainly felt strange.

Finally he managed to get out a garbled, "He...help...m...m...me."

He heard a gasp and then a sudden crack. He somehow knew it was the cracking sound of apparition, but he didn't know how he knew what apparition was. He opened his eyes for the first time and looked around. He in some sort of alleyway. It was a foggy day, so everything was cold and damp. He slowly lifted up his head, and tried to stand. It was difficult, but he managed after a few tries.

He gripped the bricks on the wall next to him tightly, and started shakily walking out of the alleyway. He had to find help. He weakly called out for help again, but no one was around to hear him.

When he got out of the alleyway he saw a large building looming in front of him. It was red-brick and rather broken down. A creaky sign hung off of one pole saying, Purge and Dowse, Ltd. He made his way there, and tried knocking on the door. The building may be abandoned, but there could have been someone, anyone there who could have helped him.

No one answered, so he sank down to the ground and curled his knees up to his chest, silently waiting for...something. He sat there for an indeterminate amount of time, but then a man in lime green robes stepped out a window, of all things, and saw him.

"Oh, my," the man said. He had a large mustache and dark brown hair that seemed to be thinning on top. " Who...who are you?"

He looked up at the man and responded truthfully, "I don't know," was all he got out before passing out, happy to have a break from the confusion of the situation.

…

He woke up to white lights. He sat up and looked around. It seemed to be a normal hospital room, although how he knew that, yet had no idea who he himself was, remained a mystery. He suddenly heard a few shrill beeps, and a woman wearing another set of lime green robes came up to him.

She had a no nonsense look about her. Her auburn hair was pulled up in a tight bun, and her although she didn't look much older than 30, her face was rather stern.

"Hello Mr. Malfoy, I see you have awakened, your family is being informed right now, and will see you soon."

He was startled, "Malfoy? That's...that's my name? I have a family?" Suddenly he was filled with joy, he might not have a clue of who he was, but his family would know! He had probably been in some silly accident. He brushed away the doubt caused by the thoughts of a cold alleyway and distorted voices. He had a family, he had people who knew him. For some reason that filled him with joy, but why did the idea of a family feel as foreign to him as it did. He had always had a family...right?

The healer's face softened, and there it was again he knew she was a healer. He knew she was a witch. He deduced he must be in St. Mungos, and although he had only heard about it once or twice from...from someone, he knew it was a magical hospital. The whole situation was infuriating to him. He knew what magic was, and he was sure if he had a wand there were all sorts of spells he could perform, but he couldn't remember a single detail about his personal life. Who he was, where he was from. He couldn't stand it!

He was jolted out of his reverie by the healer saying, "I'm sorry, we were afraid of a situation such as this...do you know Who you are sir?"

He sighed, "No...although by the sound of things I'm...Malfoy? Is that really my name?"

She nodded, "Your name is Antonius Malfoy, we found you this morning outside the hospital. We had no idea who you were and you were an unconscious minor so we performed a parentage spell on you. You can imagine our shock when we discovered you were a Malfoy,"

He...Antonius took this all in as fast as he could. His family hadn't known he was here. They had been shocked by who he was. Exactly what was going on here? He asked another question, this time in a slightly wavering voice, "...I'm in...St. Mungos...right?"

He was unsure of what he was saying, but if all these disconnected memories in his head about magic were true, then he was a...wizard.

"Yes, you are," the healer said, and then she looked a little apologetic. "I'm sorry," she said, "I forgot to tell you, my name is Healer Swaim, I'm going to be taking care of you until your family can take you home-"

Just as she was finishing her sentence she was cut off by the sound of a door opening. In the doorway stood two people. Both were tall and both had long blonde hair. The man tightened his grip on the cane he was holding when he saw Antonius, and the woman brought her hands up to her mouth.

Before anyone could do anything, she rushed towards Antonius and hugged him tightly, sobbing. The man quickly shut the door, and came up to the woman, before whispering in her ear, "Don't make a scene 'Cissa, we only know how much the press would love to watch us fall to pieces."

Antonius was still in a state of shock. He had no idea what was going on, but with those words, the woman let go of him slightly and looked into his eyes.

"He has your eyes Lucius," she said, tears still in the corner of her own.

"Yes he does," the man, Lucius, Antonius supposed, said. " He looks almost exactly like Draco."

Finally Antonius found his voice and said, " I'm sorry, but who...who are you? I woke up here, and I don't have any memory of who I am." He paused, "Are you my parents?" He asked, questioning why he didn't guess that sooner.

The woman, his mother, nodded, "We are." She said. "We finally have you back."

"Back," He echoed, "How long have been...gone, and how come I don't remember anything?"

This time it was the man, his father who spoke, and although he sounded rather aloof and cold, Antonius felt as though he cared. "Until today, we had believed that you had died as a child. We are just as surprised as you at your reappearance. And with concern to your memories, we have no idea where you've been. Speaking of, what do you remember?"

Antonius sighed, finally he would get to explain the confused jumble in his head, "I remember some things..I know that I'm a wizard, and I'm in St. Mungos, but I have no idea about where I've been these past years. I don't understand."

Lucius nodded, "It sounds like the _invictus memoira_ potion. Unfortunately, without a sample of the original potion it can't be cured, but I could put your godfather, Severus on it."

"Who?" Antonius asked, Confused.

"Severus," Lucius repeated, "He's yours and Draco's godfather. We appointed him when you were a baby, but since you have been missing he has been only Draco's."

This entire conversation was just confusing Antonius more, he was being given all these names and people with little to no context of who they were. He wasn't psychic, he wouldn't be able to just figure who these people were and how they were connected to his life.

"Who's Draco?" He asked. It was another name he didn't know and another blank face to add to his growing collection.

His mother looked at Lucius with an accusatory glare, " I'm sorry for Lucius giving you all this information with little to no context. We just have so much to tell you, and it's been so long." She look imploring at the healer, "Do you think it's alright if we leave? Take him home?"

The healer nodded, "Beside very mild hypothermia there was nothing wrong with him when he came in, save his memories. I believe it would be fine if you took him home."

Narcissa nodded and stood up, "Here," she said, pulling out a change of clothes from her bag, "these are Draco's so we assumed they would fit you. Go change, the last thing we want in you looking like a mud blood. And try to do something with your hair. Brush it out with one of the available combs."

Antonius nodded and stood up, for a second the world spun, before it righted itself and walked off the an adjoining bathroom. He quickly changed into the clothes given to him, and he got a good look at himself in a mirror for the first time.

No wonder his mother and father didn't doubt that he was their son. He looked remarkably like them. He wasn't a carbon copy by any means, but he certainly had the blonde hair and grey eyes of his father. He also had the face shape of his mother. Antonius has to agree with his mother on the fact that his hair was rather untamed. He ran a comb through it quickly and tried to seem presentable, but he really felt a little silly.

He knew logically wizards wore robes, but he didn't feel like he himself wore them all that often. If only he had his memories, then he could know for sure. Then there was that name. Draco. It sounded so familiar. Whoever he was, he must be important . He ask his mother about it again in a minute.

He stepped out of the bathroom, and his father glanced over him. "At least you don't look like a drowned rat anymore," he said, and while it could have been said as a joke, Antonius got the feeling that he didn't mean it that way. He felt rather small and weak then. He didn't quite understand families yet, but he hoped his would work out just fine.

"We're going to take the floo," his mother said, "And due to your reappearance there are reporters from the daily prophet outside. Keep your head up, and don't say anything. Your accent gives you away as an obvious mud blood, we will need to remedy that quickly."

There was that word again mud blood. What did it mean, certainly it was an insult, but for what? He liked his head and squared back his shoulders as he walked out. Suddenly there was flashing everywhere as wizards crowded around to take pictures, but he said nothing to their question and simply followed his parents to the fireplace.

He got the strangest feeling that he hated floo travel, but he put on a brave face after he followed his parents in grabbing a handful of floo powder and saying quietly, so the reporters wouldn't overhear, "Malfoy Manor."

With those words he was whisked away in a swirl of green fire. He landed clumsily on a nice rug, covered in ash.

He heard a snort from beside him. Antonius looked up and saw a boy who looked almost exactly like him. He had the same face, and while he was paler Antonius knew this had to be his brother.

The boy then spoke in a rather haughty voice, "First time I see you and you are tumbling out of a fireplace with no grace. Rather reminds of a headless chicken, or a gryffindor." He then laughed as if he had just made the funniest joke. "Although the rather are the same thing."

He laughed again, then held out his hand, "I'm Draco and I assume you're Antonius."

Antonius nodded and said, "Your Draco, then I'm guessing you're my...brother...we look frighteningly similar. Are we twins?"

Draco nodded and said, "Father and Mother told me all about you. I didn't even know I had a brother before Mungos fire called, but it is rather fascinating to have a twin. At the very least I can prove that we are a better pairs of twins than anything the Weasley family could show."

"I'm sorry," Antonius said, "but I don't understand, who are the Weasley-"

He was cut off by Draco, "Oh yes, you don't know anything, do you? Well, there are us Malfoy's at highest point in the food chain. We are the best you see, and there's the Weasleys, another wizarding family, you do know about wizardry, who are at the bottom."

Antonius tried to take in this massive information influx he was getting. Apparently his family was quite rich and famous, according to the number of reporters outside the hospital. And his brother, and dear god he had a brother, seemed like a prat, but he was sure he could try to get along with him. Maybe Draco just needed someone to help him get over his obvious superiority complex.

"Why are they at the bottom?" Antonius asked. He wondered if the Weasley family were full of criminals, or some other such stuff. It would make sense, after all, his family was high class and they couldn't be seen associating with any criminals.

Draco sighed and looked at Antonius with something akin to disappointment, "I don't know where you've been these past years, but you have to understand the basic hierarchy of wizarding society-"

"Actually I have a potion induced amnesia," Antonius interrupted.

His brother's face lit up, "Well then," he said, "I'll have to teach you the whole thing from scratch! This is really rather exciting Toni, do you mind if I called you that, Antonius is quite a mouthful."

Antonius, Toni, Blinked, "I don't mind," he said. Draco opened his mouth about the say more when they both heard a cough from in front of them.

Their father stood in the doorway and looked down at both of them, "Draco," he said, "Would you mind taking Antonius up to his room to get aquainted with his new home? Me and your mother have to discuss something important with our guest."

Draco nodded and dragged Antonius up the stairs, talking the whole way, "It really is quite exciting, having a brother. I've always been an only child, and if our family were poor I would be quite angry about the inheritance situation, but I'm still the oldest child and our family has more money than we know what to do with, so I'm fine."

"Really though," he continued, "I have no one to properly talk with at school, sure there's people like Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, but they're really just lackeys. And to get the chance to explain everything about Hogwarts to someone new and someone who wants to listen, is rather fantastic to me."

Antonius just nodded, not understanding anything his brother was saying at such a rapid pace. They then arrived at a room which Draco opened to reveal a large room decorated in silver and green. With a dresser and desk off to the side of the bed, and...another bed?

"Here we go," Draco said, "We might have enough rooms in this house for everyone to have two or three to themselves, but father and mother thought it best if we shared in order to get to know each other better. I don't really mind, because they gave us each our own bathroom." He pointed to a door on either side. "This room in also big enough to fit both of us easily. You'll certainly have to get used to sharing a room. You have to share dorms at Hogwarts."

Antonius looked at his brother asked, "What Hogwarts?"

Draco gasped, "I forgot, you wouldn't know about Hogwarts yet! I'm know we have a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ in the library, I left it there a while ago after I read it for the thousandth time." He turned around to leave and said, "You stay here, I'll go and fetch it. I'll be back in a minute."

With that he rushed out the door and left Antoninus standing there . The one hand, Antonius wanted to wait for his brother, but on the other hand he wanted to see who this guest was.

His curiosity won out and he snuck down to the room where he came out of the fireplace and gasped. Standing in the center of the room was a truly hideous man. He was tall and deathly pale, his skin almost translucent. He had red serpentine eyes, and a snake-like face. His dark robes made him all the more intimidating.

He covered his mouth with his hands, and bit back any sound he wanted to make.

The man looked at his father and said in a high breathy voice, "Luciuss, my most faithful, while it is certainly good you have found your son, I must inquire as the how he came back about. I was led to believe that he had perished."

His mother and father both got down on their knees and his father spoke with his head bowed, "Yes my lord, we had believed the same, until we were told our son had been found by a healer just outside the hospital."

The snake-man glared at his father and said, "How did this come to be Lucius? You told me the child had died in birth."

Lucius stuttered out, "I..I...do not know for sure my lord-"

Suddenly the man raised his wand and yelled, " _CRUCIO_!" His father began shaking on the floor, and after a few horrible moments of this the man stopped and continued, "You are a cowering fool, perhaps your wife can enlighten me."

Narcissa stood there shaking before she finally said, "I do not know my Lord, but I believe it may have something to do with Bellatrix. I thought there was always something amiss with her after the birth of the children, but I thought she was simply nervous. Now I suspect something more sinister."

Suddenly the man smiled, and what a horrible sight it was, "Ah, yes," he said, "Now the pieces are falling into place. Not soon after the birth of your children Bellatrix came to be bringing a child I had requested for one of my rituals," he sighed in mock sympathy, "I hadn't known at the time it was the child of one of my most faithful. Bellatrix had made it out to be a muggle babe. Had I known...the child was thought lost in the raid on my base, before I had a chance to even prepare the ritual."

Lucius nodded his head to the man before saying, "Thank you my lord, for sharing this news with us."

The man inclined his head and made his way to the fireplace, "I musst thank you for your hospitality Lucius," he said, "but I'm afraid I must take my leave now. The ministry, and Dumbledore will be over here soon to asses your son, and enroll him in Hogwarts. As of now, enjoy the time you have with your family. Your boys are of no use to me as young as they are, perhaps soon though...we will ssee Luciuss." With that the man called out a nearly indistinguishable name and disappeared through the floo.

Before his parents could even stand Antonius was running to his room, silently as he could. He made it back without incident. For a moment he just lay on his bed, heart racing and mind unable to comprehend what he just saw. Who was that man? Why was he here? As a child he was going to be a sacrifice? His parents were alright with this? He resolved not to say a word about this until he knew more.

He sat up on the bed, and had just got his breathing under control when his brother walked into the room holding a battered and well-loved copy of _Hogwarts: A History_.

"Sorry it took me so long," he said, "One of the house elves had put it in the library and it took me forever to find it."

He sat down on the bed next to Antonius and opened it up. On the first page there was a picture of four animals. A snake, an eagle, a badger, and a lion.

"To start," Draco said, "There are four houses…"

 **...**

 **Author's Note: Sorry it's been so long..that seems to start out every note, but I'm really busy….like all the time. So we got an explanation for some things this chapter. Hope you liked it , and Draco's OOCness will be explained. And I'm just going to say it. I think he would act differently around family. Everyone does, for better or worse. Please tell me how you are linking this story, reviews just make my day.**


	10. Chapter 10: Off to Hogwarts

**Chapter Ten: Off to Hogwarts**

Living with his family was nothing like Antonius had expected. For one thing, his parents were quite distant, especially his father. He was expected to have complete proper manners, and a higher class accent than what he had. So Antonius had been trained.

He had spent almost an entire month being taught how to be the perfect pureblood heir. He had been forced to undergo a multitude of speech classes in order to make sure his accent matched the rest of his family's, and his skin tone had become paler from being inside all the time. After a haircut, it was almost impossible to tell him and Draco apart. He learned how to speak, to act, and to dress, and how to address people of other blood class. And that was the other thing, the blood hierarchy, he just didn't understand it. He had been taught it many different ways but each one made less sense than the last.

When he had asked his brother, Draco had tried to explain it in a fairytale, but it left Antonius more confused than ever.

"You see," Draco had tried to say, "whenever a squib child is born, it's because a muggle-born child stole their magic."

"How would they do that?" Antonius asked, "They are just babies, they don't even know what magic is yet."

Draco had spluttered for a moment before saying, "Well, Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord as a baby!"

Antonius looked confused for a second and asked, "Who's Harry Potter?" The name seemed so familiar, but without his memories there was still no way to know if he knew Harry Potter or not.

"He's the child hero of the wizarding world," Draco said, "I went to school with him for a few years, but he died last year. Murdered, more accurately by a death eater who was hiding in Hogwarts."

Toni gasped, "That's gruesome," he said, "This was in a school? Are you sure it's safe there?"

Draco laughed, "Definitely. As long as you're in Slytherin Severus will protect us."

It was then and there that Antonius made it his mission to be in Slytherin, after all, if oafs like Crabbe and Goyle could get in, then he should have no problem.

He had met Crabbe and Goyle not long after the conversation on Harry Potter. They had bumbling fools who Antonius thought were quite a disgrace. At least Draco wasn't like that.

A few weeks before they left for Hogwarts their father had brought Antonius into a meeting with the Headmaster, where they had decided to place him in fifth year. The Headmaster, Dumbledore, had then said that Antonius could be sorted at the beginning of the year, but his father insisted on him being sorted then. Antonius had been placed in Slytherin. They hat had only told him he would be great there, so he listened and agreed to. Be placed in Slytherin. His father had given Dumbledore one last smile before floo got back to the Manor.

His brother had been ecstatic, but his parents had been silently congratulatory. His parents acted like snobs most of the time. And while Antonius was definitely grateful he had a family, and he wasn't some homeless amnesiac, he sometimes felt so disconnected.

Neither of his parents were very warm, and his mother was the one to show him close to any accession at all. His father constantly made sure that he was representing the family the right way, but he wasn't one to go to for advice.

As a result of being slightly distanced from his parents, Antonius and Draco had become very close. Antonius had a feeling that Draco had been very lonely before he came along. They lived in a huge mansion with hundreds of paintings, and Draco knew every one of them. He introduced Antonius to his favorites, and Draco showed his brother all the secret passages and tunnels in the Manor.

The only thing Antonius wondered was his brother's hero worship of their father. Draco told him it was because their father was great, and he deserved to be looked up to, but Antonius thought it might be more than that. If there were two things Draco always brought up in front of people in was their money, and his father. This made Antonius think Draco had some long repressed issues about their father.

His brother was hard to understand. Draco had these masks that he would put up in public. He would go from the slightly dorky, obnoxious brother he knew to a ginormous prat. He became snobbish and aloof. When Toni had asked his brother about this Draco had simply told him it was too dangerous for you to let people know who you truly were. The more masks you put up the better.

Antonius couldn't put up masks. He could be plenty sneaky when he wants to, and he could convince a house elf to free themselves, but he didn't like to be something he wasn't. Therefore whenever Draco put up a front with company, he let his brother take the lead while he waited in the background. Unless of course Draco was being a complete prick, then Antonius had to take over.

This had happened in Diagon Alley a few weeks before they left for Hogwarts. They had been shopping for their school supplies, and since Antonius had been put in fifth year with Draco, they both had the same shopping list. They were in Flourish and Botts when they had run into a red-headed boy, and a brunette girl around their age.

When the boy had seen them he automatically sneered and said, "Malfoy."

His brother sneered back and said, "Weasley."

Then the other boy had caught sight of him and he had frozen up. His mouth dropped open and he couldn't say anything else.

"What Weasley," Draco said, "Mudblood got your tongue? I assume since you are hanging around with one right now it would be a commonplace occurrence."

He gestured over to the girl who had been quiet so far, she shook her head in disgust. Antonius sighed, Draco was being more of a prat than usual. From what he knew Mudblood was sort of a slur, and not widely appreciated for use in public. His brother was basically coming off as a complete bigot, and while they had tried to make Antonius see the truth of 'blood purity' he had never really caught on to the subject.

The girl suddenly spoke, "At least he has friends, Malfoy. I don't see your two lackeys with you today. Did you give them a short vacation?"

His brother laughed, "You wish Mudblood, I'm here with my brother," at this point Draco pushed Antonius beside him, "We've decided that Crabbe and Goyle aren't necessary if there's two of us."

The red head seemed to break out of his shock and said, "Your mother managed to spawn two of you? And here I was thinking she only made one mistake."

Antonius decided enough was enough. He moved forward and pushed his brother and the red-head apart, "Listen here," he said, "You can insult me and my brother all you like, but don't bring my mother into this."

He then turned to Draco, "And you." He paused, "I can't believe you would be this rude to random people in a bookstore. What would father say if he knew you were being this forward about your dislike of others? We're leaving. We already have all the books we need."

He turned to go, dragging Draco behind him, but first told the girl, "I'm awfully sorry about what he called you. It's not very polite to insult others in public like that."

With that the two left the store with Draco muttering curses under his breath. The girl stood behind him in shock, and immediately began whispering to the boy. When they got out into the alleyway Draco whirled around and said, "What the bloody hell was that?"

"That," Antonius said, "Was me making sure you didn't end up humiliated or in some sort of fistfight. I could see where that conversation was going a mile away, and it wasn't anywhere good.

Draco huffed," Well you didn't need to act like I was some errant child, you totally defaced my public image."

Antonius laughed, "Your public image!" He cried, "You sound so stuffy, I know you only try to be intimidating so father will notice. Don't worry when I tell him about today, I will make it seem as though you utterly humiliated those two. It will be a battle worthy of the ages."

Draco smiled, "Thanks," he said.

And that night Antonius had made it seem like Draco had done a great deed for bigots everywhere. For once their father actually paid attention. At the end of the tale he congratulated Draco. His brother was ecstatic for the rest of the night.

It was now the day that they would be boarding the train for Hogwarts. Their bags had been packed for Hogwarts since this morning, and now they said goodbye to their mother and father before getting on the train and putting their trunks away in a compartment.

Draco had been made a prefect, and his brother had whined for quite a while about how he wanted Antonius to be a prefect as well, but they both knew Antonius couldn't be a prefect, because there was one boy and one girl who were a prefect. Draco seemed to think that he could bend any rule he wished; luckily Antonius was there to stop him. With his brother around, Draco was slowly becoming a little bit nicer, but Antonius was still working on overcoming his brothers immense bigotry.

The day the train was set to leave for Hogwarts the two brothers apparated to the station with their parents. Their parents said a brief goodbye, and without much fanfare the two were ushered towards the train. They found a compartment quite easily and loaded their stuff into the shelf. The train gave a lurch and soon they were off. As the train sped along the track the two began to make their way to the front for Draco's prefect meeting.

They headed towards the front of the train, but before they could go into the compartment they saw the two from the bookstore with the same badges pinned on their chests. His brother scowled, but Antonius, in the spirit of inter-house friendship smiled and said, " I don't believe I got your names after our encounter in the bookshop."

He cleared his throat, "My name in Antonius Malfoy."

The girl smiled first, and put out her hand, "Hermione Granger."

The boy next, "Ron Weasley."

Antonius internally frowned, this was a Weasley? He had thought his brother had called him that in Flourish and Botts, but he hadn't been sure. His brother had made the whole family out to be nothing more than savages, but this boy seemed rather average. His clothes weren't tatters, and he looked hygienic enough. He assumed Draco was simply exaggerating again.

Antonius smiled while Draco scowled behind him, "It was nice to finally meet you, but I should go so you can get to your prefect meeting." The two turned around and left, and once they were gone Draco turned around and looked at his brother.

"You have to be careful," Draco said, "There are a lot of people who watch us here, and if anything such as being nice to Mudblood and blood traitors should get back to father we'll both be in trouble."

Antonius looked down, "Sorry, I'll remember that next time." He often forgot just how much their father washed and controlled their life.

"Okay," Draco said, "Now I have to go, before Pansy gets here." He began to go into the prefect's compartment, but then Antonius caught a glimpse of Pansy walking down the hall towards them.

For a second she looked a little confused, then she launched herself at Antonius, "Who is this?" She said coldly, clinging onto Antonius' arm, "And why does he looks like you?"

Antonius spluttered for a moment before saying, "I'm not Draco, I'm Antonius...you might have read about this in the Prophet…"

Pansy's eyes widened, and she gasped, "I thought that was all made up by some ridiculous reporter. Wait..That means that if you're not Draco then," She let go of Antonius and went towards Draco.

"Drakie-Poo!" Pansy squealed, hugging Draco, "I haven't seen you all summer! I'm a prefect to, so we can spend all our nights together now! Isn't this great?"

"Perfect," Draco ground out. It wasn't that Pansy wasn't smart, in fact she could probably outwit most of Slytherin house, but she got on Draco's nerves like no one else. He spent many a night complaining about her to Antonius.

With a pleading look to Antonius, Draco was dragged into the prefect's compartment. The lock clicked shut behind him, and Antonius chuckled before making his way back to his compartment.

When he got back to where he had put his and Draco's trunks. He found three people already sitting there. A blonde haired girl with a dreamy look in her eye sat next a slightly pudgy boy holding a plant, they were chatting quietly. Across from them was a beautiful red-headed girl who was seemingly trying to read a magazine upside down.

She was talking to the blonde, saying, "Luna I don't understand this, I've tried reading this the 'correct way' for five minutes now and I still don't understand this crossword!" With a huff she threw the magazine back to the other girl who caught it deftly.

"Don't worry," the other girl, Luna, said, "The Heliopaths the ministry has probably got to you after you visited your Father."

It was then that the three seemed to notice Antonius.

"Excuse me," he said, trying to sound polite, "Are there still two trunks here?" He looked up at the top shelf and sighed, thank goodness. His and Draco's luggage was safe.

"Malfoy," the red-head hissed, "What are you doing here?"

Antonius was confused, "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know you."

The red-head looked at him for a moment then gasped, "Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else." She looked up to at his trunks, "Are those your?" She asked

"Yes, actually," Antonius said. "I'm sorry I left the compartment, but I don't want to go through the trouble of having to move my luggage again, would you mind if I sat here?"

"It's fine," the boy said, "My name's Neville by the way."

"I'm Luna, but you already knew that didn't you?" Said the blonde haired girl.

The red head looked at him suspiciously for a moment before saying, "My name is Ginny."

"Hello, Ginny. My name is Antonius. How did you come by this compartment anyway?" He said as he sat down beside her. For a second Ginny paled rapidly, then she calmed down and smiled.

"It was close by and empty. And you? Are you new here? I haven't seen you around before."

Luna laughed, "There are so many Nargles floating around his head I don't know if he could remember if he ever went here at all."

Antonius smiled at Luna and said, "No, I'm new. I transferred here this year."

"Are you going to be sorted after the feast?" Ginny asked.

"Well," Antonius said, "I've already been sorted. I was put in Slytherin."

For a second Neville looked a little scared, but Ginny spoke up before Neville could do anything, "A Slytherin?!" She said, "You seem to nice to be one of them."

Antonius shrugged, "Well it is where my whole family's gone, and my brother is in that house now, so I would have some family members there."

"Wait," Neville said, "Your brother." He looked Antonius over, "You look so much like Malfoy there's no way you could anything other that his brother."

Antonius nodded "Yes, actually we are twins."

Ginny looked over at him in annoyance, "I finally meet a decent Slytherin and he's Malfoy's twin brother."

"Technically I'm a Malfoy too," said Antonius, "So it is a bit redundant to call by brother by his last name."

Ginny scowled, "Well I'm not very well calling him Draco."

Antonius smiled, finally there was someone who treated him normally once they heard his brother was Draco. She wasn't too rude, and she was actually very pretty. He wondered what house she was in. He hoped she would be in some of his classes. He was about to ask her what year she was in when the door opened.

Draco looked in, "Antonius, we are about to get to Hogsmeade…"

He trailed off when he saw the three people he was sitting with. He scowled before grabbing their trunks and ushering Antonius out the door.

"You just don't get it? Do you?" Draco said.

"They seemed fine," Antonius answered, "They weren't mud bloods or anything!"

"Well maybe not, but we still don't associate with them."

"Why not?"

"Father wouldn't approve!"

"So you're saying the only people I can talk to are pureblood Slytherins."

Draco sighed, "Basically," he said, "And you wonder why I don't have man close friends."

With that the two brothers went of the change into their robes and prepare for Hogwarts.


	11. Chapter 11: Umbridge

**Chapter 11: Umbridge**

They stepped out of the train and headed towards the carriages. In previous years the carriages had been horseless, but not this year.

The coaches were no longer horseless. There were creatures standing between the carriage shafts. If he had had to give them a name, he supposed he would have called them horses, though there was something reptilian about them, too. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring.

Wings sprouted from each wither - vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gathering gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister. Harry could not understand why the coaches were being pulled by these horrible horses when they were quite capable of moving along by themselves.

Antonius leaned over to his brother and asked, "What are thosehorse things?"

Draco looked at his brother curiously for a second before asking, "What horse things?"

"The horse things pulling the carriages!" said Antonius impatiently. They were, after all, about three feet from the nearest one; it was watching them with empty white eyes. Draco, however, gave Harry a perplexed look.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about - look!"

Antonius grabbed Draco's arm and wheeled him about so that he was face to face with the winged horse. Draco stared straight at it for a second, then looked back at Antonius.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"At the - there, between the shafts! Harnessed to the coach! It's right there in front - "

But as Draco continued to look bemused, a strange thought occurred to Antonius.

"Can't . . . can't you see them?"

"See what?"

"Can't you see what's pulling the carriages?"

Draco looked seriously alarmed now.

"Are you feeling alright, Antonius?"

"I . . . yeah . . ."

Antonius felt utterly bewildered. The horse was there in front of him, gleaming solidly in the dim light issuing from the station windows behind them, vapour rising from its nostrils in the chilly night air. Yet, unless Draco was faking - and it was a very feeble joke if he was - Draco could not see it at all.

"Shall we get in, then?" said Draco uncertainly, looking at Antonius as though worried about him.

"Yeah," said Antonius. "Yeah, go on . . ."

"It's all right," said a dreamy voice from beside Antonius as Ron vanished into the coach's dark interior. "You're not going mad or anything. I can see them, too."

"Can you?" said Antonius desperately, turning to Luna. He could see the bat-winged horses reflected in her wide silvery eyes.

"Oh, yes," said Luna, "I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages. Don't worry. You're just as sane as I am."

Smiling faintly, she climbed into the musty interior of the same carriage as Weasley and Granger. Not exactly reassured, Antonius climbed into a separate carriage with Draco and a few other Slytherins and they made their way up to the castle.

Once they made it to the great hall and had sat down at the Slytherin table his attention had been caught by Professor Grubbly-Plank who had just appeared behind the staff table; she worked her way along to the very end and took the seat. That meant the first-years must have crossed the lake and reached the castle, and sure enough, a few seconds later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. A long line of scared-looking first-years entered, led by a stern professorate had met once named Mcgonagall. She was carrying a stool on which sat an ancient wizard's hat, heavily patched and darned with a wide rip near the frayed brim.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first-years lined up in front of the staff table facing the rest of the students, and Professor McGonagall placed the stool carefully in front of them, then stood back.

The first-years' faces glowed palely in the candlelight. A small boy right in the middle of the row looked as though he was trembling. The whole school waited with bated breath. Then the rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat burst into song:

In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school

And pass along their learning.

'Together we will build and teach!'

The four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they

Might some day be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those

Whose ancestry is purest.'

Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest.'

Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name,'

Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same.'

These differences caused little strife

When first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and the boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor.

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years,

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with duelling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came c morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfil my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you . . .

Let the Sorting now begin.

The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbours, and Antonius, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

Draco leaned over, "The Hat's never done that before,"' he said, "It's warning us."

But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first-years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end. With a last frowning look that swept the lour house tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out the first name.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

The terrified-looking boy Harry had noticed earlier stumbled forwards and put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. The Hat considered for a moment, then the rip near the brim opened again and shouted:

"Gryffindor!"

Gryffindor house clapped as Euan Abercrombie staggered to their table and sat down, looking as though he would like very much to sink through the floor and never be looked at again.

Slowly, the long line of first-years thinned. In the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions. Finally, 'Zeller, Rose' was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet.

The Headmaster rising to greet them all before the start-of-term feast.

"To our newcomers,'" said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

Antonius and Draco made small talk with other Slytherins and whispered between themselves for a moment while eating. They were trying to figure out the reasoning behind the Hat's song.

"It's rather obvious," Antonius said, "It thinks we need to unite the houses of Hogwarts, and quickly, if the urgency of the song was any indication."

Draco laughed, "That's ridiculous. No one can unite the houses." With that Draco considered the matter dropped, and Antonius decided to wait for later to bring the matter up again.

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate - for food had appeared out of nowhere, so that the five long tables were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread and sauces and flagons of pumpkin juice.

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the Hall was starting to creep upwards again, Dumbledore got to his feet once more. Talking ceased immediately as all turned to face the Headmaster.

'Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices,' said Dumbledore. 'First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students - and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too.'

'Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four-hundred-and-sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr Filch's office door.

'We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.'

Dumbledore continued, 'Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the - '

He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, 'Hem, hem,' and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.

Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Antonius had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking; this woman obviously did not know how things were done at Hogwarts.

Thank you, Headmaster,' Professor Umbridge simpered, 'for those kind words of welcome.'

Her voice was high-pitched, breathy and little-girlish and, again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat-clearing cough ('hem, hem') and continued.

'Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!' She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. 'And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!'

Antonius glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken-aback at being addressed as though they were five years old.

'I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!'

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were barely concealing grins.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ('hem, hem'), but when she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned-by-heart sound to them.

The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them for ever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching.'

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and Antonius distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little 'hem, hem' and went on with her speech.

'Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation . . .'

Professor Umbridge did not seem to notice the restlessness of her audience. Antonius had the impression that a full-scale riot could have broken out under her nose and she would have ploughed on with her speech. The teachers, however, were still listening very attentively, drinking in every word Umbridge spoke, though, judging by her expression, they were not at all to her taste.

'. . . because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognised as errors of judgement. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited.'

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Antonius noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating,' he said, bowing to her. 'Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held . . .'

…

The feast was now over, and the Slytherins were walking back to their common room when Antonius noticed a glint out of the corner of his eye. It was probably nothing, but he wanted to see what it was...just a quick look…

He looked ahead and saw Draco engrossed in a conversation with Blaise about Quidditch, and decided to steal away and go back to the Slytherin common room before anyone ever noticed he was gone.

He snuck over to where he had seen the light coming from and he walked into an old classroom. Suddenly he felt arms wrap around him and he was forcefully dragged farther into the room.

He tried to yell, but was hit with a silencing that quickly silenced him. He looked around in fear, wondering what was happening. Then he saw him.

He looked at the other boy it fear, "Weasley," he silently mouthed.


	12. Chapter 12: Weasleys

Chapter Twelve: Weasleys

Antonius stared at Weasley for another moment, silently cursing himself.

'How could I have been so stupid!' He thought, 'I should have listened to Draco, I knew he must be right about some of his bigotry. Why did I ever think to trust the Weasel? You know…'

"The Weasleys really are the filthiest of them all," Antonius said the last part aloud, "Lower than mud bloods could ever hope to be, and certainly the worst lot of blood traitors I've ever seen."

Weasley looked a bit shocked, before saying, "You're lucky Hermione put up a silencing spell around that door mate," he paused, "and stop being quite so angry with me, i'm sure once you drink this everything will become clear."

Antonius put his nose in the air, smelling the foul concoction, "I would sooner join Lord Voldemort himself."

Weasley actually had the gall to laugh, "I highly doubt that," he said.

Antonius tried to struggle, but he was put into a body bind, and then Weasley poured the drink down his mouth. He tried to spit it back out, but Weasley covered his mouth and nose so he had no choice but to swallow.

Immediately after the world began to spin, and he collapsed. Distant memories swam around his head, and his past was finally revealed to him.

...

Before the boy ever knew of his legacy as the boy who lived, he was Harry, simply Harry. He was quiet, shy, and still somehow innocent although his upbringing had been anything but. He had few memories of his parents, but the ones he did have he treasured as if they were made of gold. He held onto them, hoping for them to never slip away. Blurry red hair, round glasses, and a barking laugh Harry would come to recognize as his godfather's were all he had of his life before them.

Young Harry did not like to think that he Dursleys were cruel on purpose, after all, they never left him with broken bones, and the occasional bruise would heal quickly, he liked to think there was something wrong with him rather than them. Something about him that brought out the Dursley's hate.

One of the most traumatic events of his childhood was being chased by Aunt Marge's dog Ripper. No matter how fast little Harry ran, the great Rottweiler was always bigger and faster. It was sheer luck that had allowed him to climb into that tree before being bitten. The cold night in the tree had always been a cruel reminder to never go near Aunt Marge's dogs again.

His childhood had remained both arduous and exhausting. From the hard work the daily chores brought to the strange incidents that always seemed to happen around him, Little Harry Potter was always sure that something had to be wrong with him. There had to be, because otherwise he had to face the truth that the Dursleys were cruel, and malicious, and mean because they wanted to be; and no child could handle that ugly truth.

Little Harry Potter learned to be sneaky, and he always brought home grades slightly under his cousin's so his aunt would never accuse him of cheating. Little Harry learned that when he cooked vegetables there were always some leftover for himself, and that if he didn't want to clean his cousin's room that week all he had to do was leave out a Parent's magazine on the living room table, and petunia would decide Dudley needed a lesson in responsibility.

He learned to be fast. His cousin never caught him when they were Harry hunting, and he learned to hide. He learned to be invisible, and how not to be seen. He learned to ordinary by being extraordinary. He blended in, even with the scar on his forehead. The scar that strangers seemed to notice. Strangely dressed, odd people would shake his hand, and thank him. He didn't learn why until his eleventh year.

When Hagrid told him he was a hero, he was bitter. His whole life he had been invisible, and now he had lost that anonymity he loved to have. He wished for the days when he could be unseen and unnoticed, even if it meant the Dursleys. But he heard the tales of his parents, his brave, self sacrificing parents, and he wanted to be like them. Strong, brave, everything he thought he wasn't.

He tried so hard to be like his parents, he already hated bullies; now he wouldn't be afraid to tell them that. When he met the blonde boy in the robe shop he could tell immediately he was a bully, and he was reminded of everything he wanted to leave behind. His cousin. Harry hunting. The Dursleys and the pain of never having any true friends.

When Harry Potter met Ron Weasley he understand what it was like, and he was slightly jealous of his new friend for having such a large family. When he first met the brown haired girl on the train he had no idea how close they would become, but he thought her very intelligent.

When it came time for the sorting Harry knew that if he wanted to be like his parents he couldn't be a Slytherin he had to be Gryffindor. He told the hat so, and it agreed. He was in his new house with his new friends in a new life.

His first kill was at age eleven miles below a centuries old school. He never really thought of it as a murder until a few months after the fact when he came back to Hogwarts and saw Gilderoy Lockhart sitting in the place where he had previously seen Quirrel all year. His professor had been a person; an evil person passed by a dark lord, but still a person. He had killed someone. It had taken Ron and Hermione giving him a calming fraught from the hospital to calm him down.

He began to notice the horses pulling the carriages.

He saw Riddle, and he saw how similar they were. Their hair and eyes so close in color, and their childhoods so similar. Riddle had explained much more to him tag he had told Dumbledore. He had seen the orphanage, and was scared of knowing how similar he was to Voldemort.

By the time he met a dementor for the first time he had plenty to fear. Although the first time he heard his mother's voice it was the sound of her screams.

He learned the part onus charms for many reasons, the main one being he wanted the sound to stop. Every time a dementor was near he heard every fear he had rise to the surface. They took all his fears and bought every last one of them to the forefront. Dementors were his very fear wrapped into one terrifying cloaked monster. It was no wonder his boggart was one of these unholy creatures.

His godfather was going to die, but they were saved by a white light and a stag. When he thought his father had saved him he was overjoyed. Then he discovered it was him all along, and while he was disappointed he couldn't help but be happy that some part of his father lived on through his patronus.

That summer changed everything. He was no longer Harry Potter, but Antonius Malfoy. H head to play the part, and act the part, and he had never been a very good actor.

He had to lose his memories, and rely on his friends to get them back. He only hoped they could accomplish this, if not, Harry Potter would be gone forever.

Luckily, he came back.

…

Harry Potter came to feeling as though he had slept for many hours. Then he remembered what had happened over the past month. He tried to sit up, but his head felt as though it was f

it to burst, so he settled for laying down on the floor.

He could distantly make out Ron's voice, "Harry? Harry?! Can you hear me?"

Harry shakily nodded, and said, "That was terrible," then he balked at his voice, which sounded so very different from what he was used to. He coughed a couple times before talking again in his normal accent, "I feel like absolute shit."

He could see Ron shrug, "Well, I couldn't exactly bring you to the infra army could I?"

Harry shook his head, then realized that he was here, and Ron was here. He succeeded in standing up then hugged his friend, "Ron, you're here."

Ron looked taken aback for a moment then shrugged, "Of course I would be, but you. I almost died when me and 'Milne ran into you in the bookshop."

Harry felt his face turning red, and curse his pale skin, "I...um..that was so bad, I can't believe what I was doing." He sighed, "I earn it could have been worse though, right?"

Ron nodded, "Definitely, you could have become some sort of bigot like Draco, you still seemed like you, just...more Malfoyish."

Harry put his face in his hands, " I can't believe I'm Draco Malfoy's brother," he said, "I accepted it before, but it's so much stranger living it."

"The worst part is I find myself feeling bad for Draco. Lucius Malfoy really is as horrid as he appeared, and…" Suddenly he trailed off, then shot back to his feet, "Ron! VOldemort was there, I saw him, he was at the Malfoy's"

"Woah," Ron said, "He's there!"

"Well," Harry said, "Not anymore, he left sometime after I appeared, I don't know where he went, but I found out how I ended up with the Potters."

"How?" Ron asked.

"From what I've figured out I was taken by Bellatrix Lestrange and brought to a manor as a sacrifice to Voldemort, but there was a raid and I was found by James Potter. I makes sense."

"Blimey," Ron said, "That's insane," then he cast a tempus and his eyes widened.

"Mater, we better be getting back to...our dorms, but I have no idea how we are going to play this to our housemates."

Harry shrugged, "I don't know, I suppose we're in different houses now, I can't believe I'm wearing this," he pointed to the Slytherin crest on his shirt, "so maybe we can say we got into a fight?"

"That's brilliant, "Ron said, "we can go to the hospital wing for a headache potion for you, and knowing Madame Pomfrey she'll insist you stay the night, so you'll have an excuse for why you weren't in your dorm last night"

The two looked outside the door and crept up to the hospital wing, and Ron threw a hex at Antonius that turned his skin purple before bolting off to Gryffindor tower, pulling the invisibility cloak over him as he went. Harry felt angry that he forgot to get his cloak back, then decided to figure it out later and he went into the hospital wing.

He looked over to Madame Pomfrey, and said, "Excuse me miss," suddenly he coughed and put on the accent he had been taught, "I was hexed."

He paused, but then Madame Pomfrey appeared, took one look at his and sighed, "It's the first day and I already have a patient, come on Mr. Malfoy, let's get you fixed up."

He followed her over to a hospital bed, and sat down until she came back with a potion, and said, "Drink this, then stay here for the night so I can observe you, do you need anything else?"

Antonius nodded, "My head is hurting quite a bit."

She nodded and came back with another potion, "Take this, it should relieve the worst of the headache." She turned to go into the back room, but not before saying, "You're lucky it's the first day, otherwise I wouldn't be nearly as lenient. I won't even bother to ask what happened to you."

He thought about what was happening, and then realized he wasn't playing quidditch anymore. Antonius sighed, and tried to make himself comfortable on the hospital bed, it wasn't as nice as his bed in...well, now it would be the Slytherin dorm, but at least he would have a night before returning he would have to confront Draco. God, what he going to do.

He thought about telling his brother, but then decided that it wasn't worth it, after all, his brother still believed wholeheartedly in blood superiority. And with his devotion to Lucius. No, there was no possible way.

He couldn't believe he had ever called Lucius his father, that man was callous and cruel, and while he may care slightly for his family he was aloof and was never there for Draco. Antonius didn't need him, but Draco constantly sought lucius' approval, and Antonius decided this needed to stop. If his brother continued down this path he could end up a slave to Voldemort.

Then and there Antonius made it his mission to turn his brother against Voldemort, after all, if he convinced Draco he could convince the other Slytherins, and maybe they could lose their bad reputation, he was, after all, one of them. Now. It was going to be strange to look at the great hall from the other side of the room. It was all so surreal, it was probably the calming potion that was stopping him from having a complete breakdown right now.

He figured he could deal with his pent up emotions later. Right now he needed to rest He soon drifted off into an uneasy sleep.


End file.
